


Everyone I've Ever Loved Is Full Of Ghosts

by donniedont



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Recovery, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donniedont/pseuds/donniedont
Summary: Dedue is trying to find a lead singer for his band, Postscript.  Dimitri is trying to reconnect with the music scene after an extensive hiatus.  As they attempt to build a relationship as a bandmates and songwriters, the past finds ways of reappearing when they least expect it.  For the Dimidue Big Bang!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Dorothea Arnault & Dedue Molinaro
Kudos: 8
Collections: Dimidue Big Bang 2021





	Everyone I've Ever Loved Is Full Of Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Am Trying to Break Your Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078662) by [indevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan). 



> Thank you for checking out part one of my big bang! This was made possible thanks to my amazing artist Evie, who created incredible illustrations featured in this fic. Please check them out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Yevievt)! I also want to thank Joey who not only has been a co-collaborator on this AU, but has also helped me tremendously by betaing it (and correcting all the band names when I was too lazy to check our meticulous style guide). And thank you very much to Elliot, who has helped me tremendously as a co-creator and mod on this big bang!!
> 
> **Content Warnings:** Misgendering, panic attacks, alcoholism, self-harm, ableism, mention of dead animals, past hostage situation, past character death by gunfire, suicidal ideation, mentions of underage sex

Dimitri wasn’t sure where he should look. He knew that this was a twenty-one and over show, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was still too old. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and tangled his fingers together, deciding that the best place he could look was the faded mural that was chipped and faded on the wall behind the stage. His eyes trailed across the images of people stylized like they were from _The Simpsons_. At least, he was fairly certain that it was. The last time he saw the show was when he was in high school, which happened to also be the last time he saw a live music performance.

It didn’t help that he was in a bar that definitely had a sizable amount of people who were college students. They were bright-eyed and loudly talking about how excited they were that they were able to move into their off campus apartments. Dimitri knew these were technically his peers. He, too, had classes he was planning on starting in a few weeks. He knew that he was supposed to try to make a connection, but he felt there was a gorge between them. He knew that he wasn’t technically old, but talking to people potentially five years younger than him felt insufferable.

He only stopped staring at the mural when the band took to the makeshift stage, which was just a collection of instruments set at the middle of the patio area. There was an easy familiarity with all of them: the lead singer taking to the mic and flashing smiles at each person as they took to their spots. They seemed to even know several people in the crowd, judging by the way the lead singer stepped out of the circle of the stage area to greet people before returning behind the mic.

Dimitri pulled himself away from staring at the lead singer and turned to the guitarist where he found that he couldn’t look away. It felt ridiculous feeling attraction toward another person on sight, but he couldn’t help himself. This was a tall guy with an undercut who was going through scales with a level of poise that read that he had some level of musicality. 

The lead singer pulled him out of the haze by yelling, “We’re The Outsiders from here, there, and everywhere. Let’s go!” 

It was enough for the drummer to lift his massive arms, the drumsticks looking comically small as he banged them over his head. A wall of sound hit Dimitri: the drums, guitar, and bass joining with a sound that was complicated and joyous.

The lead singer grabbed the mic off its stand, striking a pose before he began to sing. His voice was strong, projecting loud and clear even with the slight distortion of the mic. His green eyes were bright, only obscured by the dark curls that fell in his face occasionally. 

Dimitri bobbed his head along, still afraid to move and draw attention to himself. Admittedly, it was hard to resist. The front person was charismatic, roaming halfway into the crowd. He pulled faces at audience members, playing out every lyric with a flair for dramatics that Dimitri didn’t realize how much he valued until that moment.

Even with his commanding presence, the moment he passed by the guitarist, Dimitri found himself staring at the other musician again. There was something understated in his movements, his eyes lowered and his face neutral as his fingers danced across the strings of his guitar. 

The only way that Dimitri stopped watching him when the lead singer introduced all the members. 

“Over here on guitar we have the _ever_ generous Dedue Molinaro, who jumped in to cover guitar tonight,” the lead singer announced, flashing a smile. Several members of the crowd cheered, one of which going, “ _Yeah_ , Dedue!” as Dedue rolled his eyes.

Dimitri raised his eyebrows. Dedue’s guitar work became even more impressive, if it was even possible. It made him wonder what Dedue’s music sounded like if he was in his own band. 

“And I’m Claude,” the lead singer announced, winking. He struck a pose, raising his hand over his head before he said, “We have one last song! Thank you for coming out and _please_ check out our merch table in the back!”

Dimitri turned his head and located a row of folding tables that were set up. The drumbeat pulled him back toward the stage, allowing himself to shuffle from side to side as he listened to the music.

He had forgotten about how much he loved hearing music live. It was easy to forget when the last few shows were during a haze of failing relationships and decaying mental health. 

He murmured what he could hear from the chorus to himself, covering his mouth when he realized he was doing it. Part of him wanted to forget what it felt like to be on stage. It would make his life easier. He could just go to school and keep his head low as he slowly chipped away at his credit requirements.

But he saw the flyer, set a reminder in his phone and went, shoving any apprehension to the side of his mind as he entered. He wasn’t sure if he had to be here, but he wanted to be. 

When the song ended he felt his ears ringing, his chest aching as he realized that the set was over. He turned toward the table again, reminding himself that he shouldn’t head toward the merch table until someone was there.

Even then, he wasn’t certain _why_ he needed to go. He took out his wallet and was relieved when he remembered that he had cash on him. He may not know what he wanted to say to the musicians, but he could at least buy something from them and provide support. That seemed reasonable enough and would prevent him from just staring at the musicians blankly. 

Claude slowly made his way toward the table, saying hello to people in the crowd. It seemed like he knew nearly everybody or at least knew how to come off like he did. He flashed dazzling smiles and laughed, his eyes always looking a little too faraway. Dimitri only picked up on it, because he knew he did a similar thing. He wondered if anybody else noticed. 

Claude settled at the table, the rest of the band shuffling behind it. He saw Dedue duck down and he decided to take his chance, walking through the crowd and waiting patiently for someone else to comb through their table before Dimitri shuffled over.

“Hey, let me know if you need anything,” Claude said. He dragged a stool over toward the table and perched on it, crossing his arms and smirking. 

“Thank you,” Dimitri replied. He had spent so much of the set staring at Dedue he truly didn’t notice how handsome Claude was. His curls were heavy with sweat, a few falling in his face. He leaned forward, his collared shirt unbuttoned enough to expose the dark swoop of what looked like a binder, chest hair poking out of it.

Dimitri couldn’t help but smile. Between passing fairly well and not having many friends in general, he struggled finding other trans people. As nervous as he was about their potential interaction, his chest fluttered at the chance they could connect.

“Uh, you were… you were amazing,” Dimitri stammered, “You are… captivating.”

Claude sat up straight, grinning. “Oh, you flatter me. Please continue.”

Dimitri nodded. “You are able to maintain so much energy while still being able to hold notes…”

Claude raised his hands. “Oh, whoa! I didn’t think you would actually take the bait! You’re sweet. Thank you--seriously.” 

Dimitri lowered his head, focusing on the merch in front of him. They appeared to have a variety of options, ranging from canvas packages, a shirt, and some records.

“This your first show?” Claude asked.

Dimitri willed himself to look up again. Claude’s demeanor shifted. His head tilted to the side and he immediately pushed his hair out of his face.

“Yes. Well, for the first time in years,” Dimitri confessed.

“Okay, good. I would remember someone like you.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose. He brought his hand toward the elastic of his eyepatch, tugging on it nervously.

“Oh, no!” Claude exclaimed, “No, not because of the eye patch. I’ve just been in the scene for years. I would remember someone tall, blond, and overwhelmingly earnest.” His eyes flicked back toward the back of the table and immediately back at Dimitri. “Hey, quick question. You talked about breath control, so I figured I should ask. Can you sing at all?”

Dimitri felt his mind stop for a moment. He hummed to himself before he said, “Uh, I… I have. I can? Why?”

“Oh, perfect,” Claude said. He spun on the stool, yelling, “Hey, Dedue!”

Dedue appeared from behind the table, standing tall as he slipped his phone in his pocket. He appeared equally baffled, asking, “What?” in a tentative voice.

Dimitri pressed his lips together, trying his best to keep his eyes focused on Dedue’s face. It required an embarrassing amount of discipline, Dedue wearing a band shirt that was cropped at the sleeves and the hem, showcasing his toned arms and soft stomach. 

“This guy says he can sing,” Claude said. He scanned Dimitri up and down and asked, “Wait, what’s your name?” 

“Dimitri,” Dimitri said.

“Dimitri!” Claude exclaimed, “He’s new to the scene. Dedue is out a lead singer and is looking for one. Maybe you two can try to link up or something?”

Dedue gave a pained expression, his lips pressed together and his eyebrows knitted together. “Uh,” he said, “Claude, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but…” He stared down Dimitri for a long moment before he said, “Pardon me for being a bit blunt, but can you sing this type of music?”

“Oh, yes,” Dimitri said, “I mean, I was… I was in a band a few years back. I collaborated with another musician for the music and sang backing vocals.” He braced himself for a fractured memory to flash through his mind of himself sitting in his childhood bedroom with his former friend as they scribbled words excitedly across college ruled paper. He gulped, swallowing it down. 

“All right,” Dedue said. “Uh, the next band should be coming on soon, so I would like to step out for a moment, if that’s all right with you both.”

Claude nodded. “Oh, yeah. Also, are you buying that shirt? It’s cool if you’re not, but uh, we kind of got a line going on behind you.”

“Oh!” Dimitri exclaimed, not even realizing that he was holding it. He said that he would, mumbling the size he would need before paying, Claude passing a shirt toward him. Dimitri clumsily tossed it over his shoulder, following Dedue out from the patio area, and through the bar. A few people spotted Dedue and said hi, Dimitri unsure if he should wave as they rushed out of the bar, walking toward the end of the block before Dedue said, “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure we could hear each other.”

“That’s fair,” Dimitri said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. They were fitted enough that he hoped Dedue didn’t notice.

“Claude is a bit of a busybody,” Dedue explained, “He… means well.” He cleared his throat. “It’s true, I am in need of a lead singer. But I am not going to just accept anybody. I hope that’s understandable.”

“Of course,” Dimitri said, “I wouldn’t want to push myself into a band. I… I know what it’s like when it’s not quite the right fit.”

Dedue nodded. He turned toward the street, the headlights of a card driving past catching against his face. Dimitri tried to commit each moment to memory, fascinated by how the shadows shifted against him with each moment.

“I could offer you a try out,” Dedue said, “I’ll have to consult with my band about it to see if they are comfortable with it. But if they are, we can have you come in, perform a song or two, and see if we work together. Does that work for you?”

Dimitri nodded. 

“That sounds reasonable,” he said, “I would be honored. Thank you for even considering me.”

The crowd cheered in the distance as the next band began their set.

*

Dedue checked his phone, confirming the time before he put it back on the coffee table in front of him.

“Uh, so does anyone have any questions before the lead singer arrives?” he asked.

His bandmates looked up from their conversations, their eyes focused on him. 

“Are you really sure we don’t know this person?” the keyboardist, Ashe asked. His tone was light, but Dedue knew him well enough that he was not entirely convinced this would work in their favor. 

“I didn’t recognize him,” Dedue said, “No one in The Outsiders did, either.”

“A lot of students are moving into off campus apartments this month,” their bassist, Mercedes noted, “Perhaps he is a grad student?”

“I could buy that, I suppose,” Ashe replied.

“I just hope he’s a good fit,” Annette said, “I miss playing with you guys.”

Everybody nodded. Dedue was too nervous to say anything, but he agreed with Annette. He saw them constantly, but there was a restlessness between all of them. No one said that they were going to join another band if they couldn’t find a replacement, but he wouldn’t blame anyone if they became fed up and wanted to be in a project that they would actually be able to play music consistently.

“I do have one question,” Mercedes said. She fluffed up her short bob with her hand.

“Sure. What is it?” Dedue asked.

“What is it about him that made you want to try to offer him this audition?”

Dedue grabbed his phone again, clunkily spinning it into his hand. “Oh,” Dedue said, “I mean… I’m not entirely sure. Claude seemed to trust him implicitly and I assumed that if Claude felt that way, there had to be something of value there.”

“Not a bad approach,” Mercedes said, “Was there anything else?” 

Dedue shook his head. He continued to spin his phone in his hand, pressing his lips together. He thought he had evaded his self doubt, at least when it came to his bandmates. They were the three people he trusted the most in the scene. Even then, he couldn’t find himself admitting that when he spoke with Dimitri he felt comfortable. The asking permission and checking in was clunky, but sweet in a way Dedue didn’t see as much as he would like. He hoped that Dimitri would be a good fit, if only because it would be nice to work with someone who tried to be that considerate.

“Well,” Mercedes said, “I’m excited to meet him!”

The doorbell rang and Annette rushed toward it. Dedue followed behind her, watching over her head as she swung the door open. 

Dimitri stood on the step, his hands shoved appearing to be halfway into the pocket of his hoodie. He looked baffled, Dedue waving. Dimitri made eye contact with him and he audibly breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You Dimitri?” Annette asked.

“Yes,” Dimitri replied.

“Come on in!” Annette chirped. She ushered him in, her hand touching the back of his arm. He flinched, Annette gasping. “Oh no! I’m sorry!” she said.

“Uh,” Dedue said, wedging himself between Dimitri and Annette. “Let me introduce you to everyone…” He angled himself in ways that funneled Dimitri to directly interact with each member briefly before moving onto the next person. Even with his jockeying, the interactions were awkward. The confident timbre of Dimitri’s voice at the show was gone with a brittle, mumbling tone taking its place. His hands never left his pockets and he even refused to shake hands when Ashe offered his. 

When Dedue saw the annoyance in his bandmates’s faces, his heart sank. He knew that he tended to have a higher tolerance for things like this than most people, if only because he was prone to similar habits, but he had learned how to be tolerable, for lack of better terms. It took years, but he was able to come off quiet, but charming, even if he didn’t entirely understand it himself. Dimitri didn’t appear to have the same skill set. Dedue found himself worried that he was coming off insufferable, even though he should be able to be however he felt comfortable.

“We should go to the basement,” Dedue suggested. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t see relief in everyone’s eyes as he led them toward the basement.

“Be careful with the railing,” Mercedes said, “It’s a bit wobbly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Dimitri said quietly. 

Mercedes smiled. That looked honest, at least. She was the one that appeared the most affable about the situation, which made the most sense considering her reputation in the scene was more focused on her mental health workshops than anything else.

Dimitri quietly padded around the basement. “Oh, you have so much space,” he noted. 

“We’re very lucky,” Mercedes agreed.

“This used to be a show house,” Ashe added, “We don’t quite have the capacity to run them ourselves, but… it’s an interesting piece of history from this music scene.”

Dimitri turned around, nodding his head at Ashe. Ashe craned his neck, waiting for Dimitri to add something, but nothing happened. Instead, Dimitri slid his guitar case off his back, sitting down on the floor before he unzipped it, grabbing his guitar and tuning it.

Dedue couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. It was a model that was older, but pricey The guitar sounded beautiful as he began to quietly tune the instrument. Dedue ducked his head away and grabbed his own guitar, getting it set up. Everybody else walked toward their own instruments, getting prepared for the try out.

“How wedded are you to the guitarwork?” Dimitri asked.

_Wedded_? It sounded like a word that Dedue hadn’t heard since a theory class in college. 

“Oh, I mean… hm…” Dedue said. He brought his hands behind his back and sighed. “Uh, what does everyone think?”

Ashe stopped playing scales on his keyboard, taking a deep breath. “What do you mean exactly?” he asked.

“Oh, I just…” Dimitri started. He lowered his head, shaking it before he said, “Nevermind, nevermind, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Ashe raised his eyebrows. 

“ _Okay_ ,” he said tentatively, “If you change your mind, let us know, I guess.”

Everybody finished up tuning instruments and fell into a ready position. 

“You were able to prepare both songs?” Dedue asked.

“Yes,” Dimitri replied, “Could we do the faster one first?” 

“That’s reasonable,” Dedue said. “I’ll count you off?”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said, “I’m ready.”

Dedue counted them off and Dimitri stood up straight. Hee had forgotten how tall he was. He entered without hesitation, his hands steady as he played the rhythm line. He kept up with the pace, his eyes shut as he leaned in toward the mic and began to sing.

Dedue knew better than to assume what people’s singing voices would be until he heard them. There were occasional hints in the way they breathed as they spoke or enunciated words, but Dimitri threw those potential theories out the window the moment he opened up his mouth.

His voice was not clear. If Dedue didn’t write the lyrics himself, he would have not quite been able to make out certain words. Instead, his precision was in the way that he emoted, his face screwing up at just the right times before he yeowled into the mic. 

Dedue scanned the rest of his bandmates, unable to resist smiling when he saw how they were all staring at Dimitri with curiosity in their eyes. He was interesting. In their scene, it was almost better to be interesting than good. 

But it wasn’t fair to suggest that Dimitri wasn’t good. When they jumped to the slower song, he opened his eye, waving his hand in front of himself as if he was trying to bring down his energy. He leaned into the mic with his shoulders raised and his hands clenched. Even with the tension set deep in his body, his voice was steady and deep. 

There was something grounding about Dimitri being there. Even with all the nervousness clearly radiating off of him, Dedue found himself able to read him well enough. He could tell when he was going to pull away from the mic to focus on his guitar work or when he was going to swing his head to keep his bangs out of his face. It was instinctual.

The second song ended and Dimitri nearly leapt away from the mic. He cleared his throat, mumbling, “Uh, I hope that gave you… an okay idea…”

Everybody was quiet. Dedue wanted to tell him what he thought, but he caught himself. He scanned the room, trying to read Annette, Ashe, and Mercedes's faces. He was stunned by how still they all appeared. He took a deep breath before he said, “I think it did. Uh, does anyone have any questions?”

Mercedes was the first to shake her head. Annette and Ashe joined her. 

“Thank you for coming in to play with us!” Annette exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s greatly appreciated,” Ashe agreed.

“I’ll walk you out,” Dedue said. Dimitri followed behind him as they walked upstairs, Dedue wishing that he could offer some sort of reassurance. Even then, he knew that he probably shouldn’t. He refused to be someone who didn’t factor in the feedback from his bandmates, even if he was hoping that they wanted Dimitri to be in the band.

“We’ll call you once we come to a decision,” Dedue finally said.

“Oh. Thank you. I appreciate that,” Dimitri replied. He curled up over himself, whatever confidence that seemed to come through in his performance seemingly drained out of him.

“Thank you,” Dedue added, “It… it meant a lot to have you here. This band means a lot to me and I want to be able to keep it going.”

“I hope you find someone who is the best fit,” Dimitri said. 

Dedue smiled. “Thank you,” he said. The two of them stared at each other until Dimitri eventually ducked his head away and turned to open up the door. They exchanged goodbyes and Dimitri closed the door behind him. Dedue sighed before returning to the basement.

Everybody was putting their instruments away and paused when they saw Dedue.

Dedue put his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath. “So how do you feel about him?” he asked.

“He kept up really well for someone who just learned the songs,” Annette said. She tapped her chin and added, “He sounds really pitchy, though. I’m sure that will clear up once he feels confident enough.”

“He would need some work, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him,” Ashe said, “So make of that what you will, I guess.”

“Yeah, that too,” Annette said, “He emoted really well.”

Mercedes finished putting her bass away, locking it shut before she stood up, dusting off her skirt. She looked up at Dedue. “Well, I quite enjoyed playing with him, but I feel it’s necessary to ask… Dedue, how did it feel hearing him sing your words?”

“Oh,” Dedue said. He rubbing his knuckles against the shaved part of his hair. “Uh… it felt good. Like it was the right fit.”

“Then that’s enough for me to say yes,” Mercedes said.

Annette smiled. “I agree!” she exclaimed.

Dedue turned to Ashe. He didn’t want to beg for a response, choosing to keep his face still as Ashe’s screwed up as he tried to form a response.

“I think he needs some work,” Ashe admitted, “But I do think that he can get where he needs to for us.”

Dedue willed himself to smile. “Excellent. Then it’s decided,” he said. “I’ll call him.” He took his phone out of his pocket, already in the middle of unlocking it when Ashe snorted.

Dedue looked up, tilting his head. 

“Nothing,” Ashe said, “You’re excited. It’s nice to see.”

Dedue felt his cheeks warm up. Moments like this reminded him that as much as he considered Ashe a friend, he knew him with a level of intimacy that came from the few years they dated each other.

He looked down at the phone again, calling Dimitri and turning on the speaker phone. The phone rang twice before Dimitri picked up.

“Hello?” Dimitri asked.

“Hi, Dimitri,” Dedue replied. He turned around and saw that his bandmates got closer, Mercedes’s hand on his shoulder. “We’ve made a decision.”

“Oh, so soon,” he murmured.

Dedue opened up his mouth, but Annette already wedged herself between his body and his phone as she exclaimed, “Welcome to the band!”

“Congratulations,” Ashe added.

“We’re so happy to have you!” Mercedes said, squeezing Dedue’s shoulder.

Dimitri was quiet. It sounded like he was rustling around, eventually pausing and sniffing loudly. “You’re certain?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Dedue said.

Dimitri sniffed loudly again. “Thank you so much,” he whispered, “I promise I will do my best.”

“We know you will,” Dedue said. He felt Mercedes squeeze his shoulder again.

*

Dimitri’s hands clumsily searched for the chain around his neck. He carefully pressed the pads of his fingers against it, slowly searching for the medallion hanging off of it

He hated how anxious he felt when he visited his father’s home. He didn’t have the heart to confront his father about it. The house was always fairly clean, but there were notable open spots where there used to be framed or holes in strategically laid out shelves that once carried photos and mementos from Dimitri’s stepmother and stepsister. The divorce was years ago at this point, but between Dimitri being hardly lucid in the years afterwards and his father barely able to support him through it, there was little effort put toward redecoration.

He found the medallion and pressed his finger against it. From his understanding, the necklace was his mother’s originally. There was tiny font that stated it was Mary Undoer of Knots, featuring the Virgin Mary untangling a long rope in her hands. He tugged on the chain so he could look at it.

His father laughed, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he bothered driving an hour out to Dimitri’s apartment to pick him up only to take a phone call and lean against the counter, chatting with someone. Dimitri sighed. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice when it came to these matters. His father said he would pay for his apartment until he finished up school on the condition that they had weekly check-ins. 

He wished he had reasons to avoid it. Unfortunately, he had nothing. School hadn’t started just yet and as exciting as getting into the band was, weekends didn’t seem to be the best fit for most of them in terms of rehearsal time at the moment. At least the band invited him into a group chat. He couldn’t remember the last time he was invited into one, but he was going to make the most of it, responding with gusto to each message.

His father laughed again, this time with enough force that he tilted his head back. It was his “I am listening, can’t you tell?” laugh. It was the confirmation Dimitri needed to know that he was speaking to a work friend.

It felt wrong to feel so negatively toward his own father. It wasn’t like he was a bad father. He wasn’t a great one, but the older Dimitri got, the less he thought that great ones existed, anyway. It wasn’t like Dimitri was an easy child to take care of. He was a sensitive kid, even if he wasn’t nearly as loud about it as another childhood friend. He became insufferable by the time he hit middle school and after thousands of dollars of treatment, he wasn’t sure he could say he was much better. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s a pretty quiet night,” his father said, “Just having dinner with my daughter.”

Dimitri tugged on his necklace, the chain digging into the pad of his finger. He glared at the back of his father’s head. At least he didn’t feel dread when those flubs happened anymore. Of all the things that he felt insecure about, his presentation wasn’t one of them. No one made those types of mistakes at this point unless they knew who he was before, and that list was dwindling at this point.

His father turned his head back, his eyes wide. “I’m so sorry!” he mouthed before he turned toward the phone and went, “My son! My son. Sorry, you were right.”

Dimitri turned away from the kitchen and rolled his eyes. At least this work friend was aware.

The call went on long enough that the pizza delivery arrived, Dimitri getting up before his father asked him to. He grabbed his father’s wallet and tipped the delivery person as much as he could before he grabbed the box from them. He went through the steps of setting up the table, placing the box in the middle of the table before he set up the plates and ample amounts of paper napkins. He sat down, realizing that his father hadn’t even acknowledged him. He sighed, opening up the box and grabbing a slice.

His father finally hung up, joining him at the table by the time Dimitri was reaching for his second slice. “Thanks for setting up the table,” his father said, taking his own slice. Dimitri nodded his head.

They methodically ate slice by slice, the two of them barely talking. The only thing that cut through the din ended up being Dimitri’s phone, which vibrated loudly on the table. Dimitri checked the screen, unable to conceal a smirk when he saw that it was Annette in the band group chat.

“Who’s that?” his father asked.

“Oh, uh. A new friend,” Dimitri said. “I, uh… just joined a band.” He was unable to resist smiling, wiping his lips with a napkin to conceal it.

His father looked up from his food. “Oh wow,” he said. His blue eyes focused on Dimitri for the first time in what felt like the entire night. He was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Hey, do you remember when you were in a band with Felix and your other friends?”

Dimitri’s shoulders went up to his ears. “Y… yes,” he said tentatively, “I remember.”

“I remember when Rodrigue and I went to a battle of the bands you were in… you looked like you were having so much fun on stage. I never really understood why you stopped talking to them.” He pensively wiped his mouth, tossing the napkin on the table. “You should at least give Rodrigue a call sometime. He’s always asking for you.”

“Okay,” Dimitri replied. He didn’t realize that his hands were clenched so tight until he felt them begin to ache. “But… this is a different band. I really like them. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, yeah,” his father said, “Of course. Good luck with that.”

Dimitri felt anger begin to bubble up in his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth. If he was too loud, his father didn’t say anything about it.

Thankfully, the conversation ended. Dimitri quietly picked at his last slice of pizza as his father cleaned up his plate and returned to the kitchen. 

Dimitri’s phone vibrated again and Dimitri grabbed it, unable to resist smiling when he saw that Dedue had messaged him. He opened it up, seeing that he had invited him to a show tomorrow. He nodded his head, even if Dedue couldn’t see as he typed that he would love to go.

*

Dedue scanned the sidewalk, relieved when he found Dimitri quickly enough. It was nice befriending someone who was tall enough to be above most of the crowd. He hated to admit how many times he lost Annette at a show.

Dedue waved, realizing that he did so on Dimitri’s blind side when Dimitri didn’t react. He shuffled to the side and waved again.

“Oh!” Dimitri exclaimed. He shoved his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “It’s great to see you,” he said. His arms flexed awkwardly in his pocket, but he didn’t make any effort to move.

“It’s great to see you, too,” Dedue replied. “How was visiting your dad?”

Dimitri’s smile faltered. Dedue immediately regretted assuming that their dynamic was something he would want to speak to. Dimitri eventually said, “Oh, uh. Well, I see him once a week! It’s just… a nice habit, I guess.”

“It can be,” Dedue replied. He scratched his bare arm, trying to ignore the dread that began to form in his stomach when he realized that it was a pleasant summer evening and Dimitri was covered. He hated making assumptions, but he knew that it usually meant it was intended to conceal something. 

Sometimes he wondered if he should take a break from the music scene. It seemed like his mind never made these types of leaps before he joined it.

“Uh, well, let’s get inside,” Dedue suggested.

Dimitri was content following him inside. The venue was a typical dive bar, even if historically it apparently meant a lot to the scene. Dedue had only played a smattering of shows there, the crowd tending to favor a heavier sound than his musical projects. He was fine with this being the case, watching a group of men walking by who were already intoxicated enough that they were beginning to shove each other. He sighed. Dimitri turned toward him and mumbled, “I hope they don’t try to start something.”

“They might,” Dedue admitted.

Dimitri gave a sigh of his own. “I guess I should have known people are still like this.”

Dedue spotted a pair of bar stools open and grabbed them. They ordered cheap beer, watching the bartender pass plastic cups toward them. After tentative first sips they spun the plastic cups nervously.

“Did you use to go to shows?” Dedue finally asked.

“Oh, yeah. In high school,” Dimitri said, “I, uh. Had to step away from it for a few years, but I’m glad I’m back.” Dedue nodded. It was understandable. He had been in the scene since he was nineteen. There were plenty of good people he met that did not have the fortitude to stay. He held no ill will toward anyone. Some of them took classic routes and began to make music that got them into larger venues, even touring, while others focused on their mental health or careers outside of it.

Dedue hoped that if the scene stopped being productive for him, he would leave. But right now, it was one of the few things that helped keep him grounded in this world. 

“I’m glad you are, too,” Dedue said. 

“So tell me about the bands we’re seeing tonight,” Dimitri said. He flashed a crooked smile that made Dedue’s stomach flip. He gulped, hoping that Dimitri couldn’t tell.

“Oh, well,” Dedue said, “Uh, we’re really here to see one band. They’re called Killing Edge. One of my very good friends is in it.”

He felt bad omitting that this good friend was his ex, but he assumed that a crowded bar was not the place he wanted to explain something so deeply personal. 

He hoped that Dimitri was the type of person who understood why it was important to withhold information at times.

The two of them decided to stay at the bar, slowly sipping their beer as the band began to set up. Someone walked across the stage and Dedue’s eyes lit up.

“That’s Dorothea,” Dedue said, “She was in my first ever band.”

“That’s so lovely,” Dimitri said, “I’m glad you support each other.”

Dedue smiled, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. He was over Dorothea in a romantic sense. Their relationship was wonderful and while he had his fair share of guilt concerning how it ended, he was able to move on from her. Their friendship was more than enough, even if he wondered what timelines would be like if he had gotten his act together and found a way to work on their issues. At least those thoughts only came through his mind late at night when he couldn’t get to sleep.

For now, he watched Dorothea set up her guitar. She followed along with mic check, her red lips forming a beautiful smile once she was given approval from the sound tech. She gestured toward someone to the side who came to join her.

“Who’s that?” Dimitri asked.

“Bernadetta von Varley,” Dedue replied, “She’s a bassist and the lyricist. I’ll have to make sure you meet up at some point. She’s wonderful, but she tends to be too anxious after her sets to hang around much.”

Dimitri nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “I would love to talk to her about her process,” Dimitri said before he began chewing loudly on his plastic cup.

The drummer was next to arrive on stage. She walked toward the kit, ruffling her short blond hair. He knew of Ingrid for nearly as long as he was in the scene. She was a decent percussionist, but after a few conversations, he realized that she had a lot to learn about perspectives outside her own. He kept his distance and thankfully nobody asked him about it.

“The drummer’s name is Ingrid,” Dedue added.

“Uh,” Dimitri said, “Yeah.” He finished his beer and turned away, flagging the bartender to get him another one.

Dedue raised his eyebrows. It was a strange reaction for someone who appeared to be new to the area. He held himself back from probing about it, sighing loudly when the lead singer stumbled onto the stage.

Sylvain Gautier. One of the most frustrating people in the scene. His talent was never questioned, but it didn’t mean much when he was prone to being too intoxicated to show it. Judging by the plastic cup of beer he placed at the base of the mic stand, he was already getting there. At least for now he was still able to stand straight. He saw Dimitri physically flinch from the corner of his eye. 

“Do you know him?” Dedue asked. Sylvain’s body count was lauded throughout the scene. It was hard to find someone who hadn’t at least been chatted up by him, Dedue included.

Dimitri looked like his lips were struggling to form words, but he eventually nodded his head. 

The last member of the band stomped on the stage. Dedue wasn’t sure why he was surprised. It wasn’t like Felix ever took the stage as if he enjoyed it. It almost made his talent all the more obnoxious.

Dedue turned toward Dimitri and watched him launch off the stool before rushing away. Dedue could barely take a breath before his instinct kicked in. He raced behind Dimitri, gasping when he skidded on spilled drinks. He found Dimitri shoving himself past security, swinging the door open as Dedue followed behind, apologizing before he squeezed through the gap and joined Dimitri outside. 

Dimitri stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, bringing his hands to his face. He leaned forward, his shoulders shaking. Dedue stayed several steps behind him, his hand reached out, even if he was certain he was too scared to touch him.

“Dimitri?” Dedue asked.

Dedue lowered his hands. His eyepatch was somewhat askew, his blue eye shining with tears. His mouth was curled into a smile, laughing hysterically as tears began to roll down his eye.

Dedue took a step back, taking a deep breath before he reminded himself that he had to at least come off like he understood what was going on. “Dimitri,” he said again, his voice steadier. 

Dimitri brought his fingers to his mouth. He appeared to be biting at the pads of them, a low whine in the back of his throat. He looked at Dedue, but his eye was so unfocused, it was like he couldn’t see through whatever haze had taken him.

“Hey,” Dedue said, “I’m here… you’re here. We’re just…” He looked around. He wasn’t sure if anyone was watching, but he refused to look around to check. He tried to remember an exercise Mercedes taught in one of her workshops. “...we’re on a city street. Can you tell me what you see?”

Dimitri’s eye closed. He took a shuddering breath and opened his eye before he said, “This tree.” He kicked at the sapling that must have been an attempt at a beautification project.

“Describe it for me,” Dedue ordered.

“It looks… I don’t… I don’t know anything about trees! It looks dead!” He kicked at the green tarp that surrounded it. When his foot nearly got caught in the fabric he yelled out of frustration.

“I don’t know what it is either,” Dedue lied. It was definitely a maple tree, but he wasn’t going to hold it against him. “You don’t have to know, just tell me what it looks like.”

“It’s… it’s got green leaves,” Dimitri replied, “And… thin branches, I guess?” He brought his hands to his hair, tugging on it. “Oh my God, you must hate me.”

“I don’t,” Dedue said, “Want to touch the leaf and tell me what it feels like?”

Dimitri took a deep breath, grabbing the leaf. “It feels like a leaf,” he mumbled. “You should. I’m pretty sure it’s no re-entry.”

“You can give me more detail than that,” Dedue said. He stepped closer, running his hand along a leaf. “I don’t think I want to go back if it made you feel that way.”

“I still ruined your plans,” Dimitri mumbled.

“As much as I like plans, they can always be changed,” Dedue said, “Are you up for a walk?”

Dimitri nodded, touching the leaf one more time before he faced Dedue. He wiped at his eye and took a deep breath. Dedue waved toward him, leading the two of them away from the venue. They walked side-by-side, Dimitri’s head lowered as he quietly trudged along. 

“I’m sorry again,” Dimitri mumbled.

“If you’re sorry, then let’s make the best of this walk,” Dedue suggested.

“Okay,” Dimitri replied. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket again. “How did you know to do that?”

“The exercise?” Dedue asked. 

Dimitri nodded his head.

“Mercedes taught me,” Dedue said, “She does a lot of workshops about mental health and I try to go to them. Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Dimitri said, “I still feel fuzzy? But I’m not hitting a wall anymore.”

“That’s good, I think,” Dedue said. It certainly sounded like it could be worse. 

“I still feel bad that I acted that way,” Dimitri mumbled, “It’s just… I wasn’t ready to see those three.”

“If I had known you knew each other I wouldn’t have invited you,” Dedue said.

“I believe you,” Dimitri said. He toyed with the frayed pull string of his hoodie. “I grew up with them.”

Dedue nodded. It explained the reaction well enough. There was an awful part of him that was curious as to what had happened between them, but he resisted prying. Instead of scrutinizing the statement, he led them toward a backroad that was lined with old graveyards. They slowed down to read the headstones.

“How are they doing?” Dimitri asked. He coughed into his shoulder. “I mean, if you know. Of course.”

Dedue took a deep breath. The problem was that he knew too well. Even if there were always rumors, he had enough potential informants to get to the truth. 

“Uh, I mean… I can’t say I’m particularly close to those three.” His pace slowed down, eventually stopping at a street corner. He rubbed his knuckles against the side of his head before he mumbled, “I think… there’s certainly things going on that I have no idea about.” Dimitri nodded attentively as if he was actually giving an adequate answer. 

“They’re struggling,” Dimitri said.

Dedue bit the inside of his lip. “I mean,” he started, “Unfortunately, many of us are struggling with something in this music scene. Even if I don’t know all the details.”

Dimitri curled his finger around the pull string of his hoodie, focusing his attention on it. “That makes sense,” he murmured. 

Dedue watched him continue to twist the string tighter around his finger. He pulled himself away, turning his heel and checking the road before crossing it. Dimitri shuffled quickly behind him.

“I saw Sylvain once,” Dimitri said, “Like… three years ago.”

Dedue gulped. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Oh, it was… it was a good conversation.” Dedue turned his head to see that Dimitri was rubbing his face with his sleeve. “It… we were able to clear the air about some stuff that happened when we were younger. I think we should be on fine terms. I just know I haven’t been able to see Felix and Ingrid in many years and I just… worry that they will not be as amicable.”

“That’s understandable,” Dedue said. He hoped that he sounded neutral enough. Even if he was certain that Dimitri and Sylvain were able to have a pleasant conversation, he couldn’t help but question what mental state Sylvain was in when it happened. A pleasant Sylvain was not necessarily a sober one.

But even if that was a fair assessment, he wasn’t sure if it was something that would remotely help Dimitri, who was already thrown off so painfully that night.

Dedue turned to another block. It looked like there were a cluster of people collecting at a bar. He hummed to himself, deciding that it was small enough that they could cut through. He held his breath as they got through the group, relieved that Dimitri was able not have a meltdown.

“Could I ask a quick question about all this?” Dedue asked.

Dimitri caught up to him, stopping to look up at him. He brought his hand to his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. 

“I guess… it doesn’t happen often, but we have played with them on the same bill in the past,” Dedue said. He watched Dimitri’s cracked lips pressed together. “Should we refuse shows if we know they’re going to be performing?”

Dimitri furrowed his eyebrows, slowly shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to make such an accommodation," he said. He shifted from side to side, lowering his head. “Besides, I’m the new person, right? I need to figure out how to adapt to make sure that Postscript becomes the best band it can be.”

“I understand,” he said, even if he didn’t. He knew that Postscript was never going to be where they could end up if he couldn’t survive in this scene.

*

Dimitri hugged his sides, focusing on the landscape painting that was hanging in the living room.

He remembered going to basement shows when he was younger. He always felt strange sitting in a place that was definitely someone’s home most of the nights of the week. There were chore charts and reminders about garbage day interspersed with people’s guitar cases and tubs of merch.

He tightened his grip across his sides, watching someone try to lift their arm at him. He jerked his head, glaring down Annette.

“Aw, don’t worry. You nervous?”

Dimitri nodded. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, forcing his face to relax. As much as Annette felt overwhelming at times, he knew that she was well intentioned. 

“We’re going to get through it. Promise,” Annette said, winking.

At least he could appreciate that she didn’t say they would get through it and sound good.

That wasn’t fair to the rest of the band. Dimitri truly felt like the weak link in it. They were excellent musicians and able to fit into this occasional venue. Dedue was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he chatted with Claude. Ashe was deep in conversation with a pair of musicians, one with shocking blue hair and the other with dark green hair. Mercedes clinked her tall can of beer with Dorothea’s.

Dimitri grabbed at the loose skin on his lip. He wanted to like Dorothea. He knew that he should like her. Dedue cared about her and Dimitri trusted Dedue’s judgment, even if he somehow thought Dimitri should join the band. Even then, he couldn’t help but be worried that they would struggle with the fact that she was bandmates with Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain. He hoped that Dedue would respect this fear.

Claude called for everyone to go downstairs and Dimitri took a deep breath. They were opening, which was fine with him. He could get this energy out and if he needed to, he could run home. He grabbed his case and followed them to the basement, following Dedue to a wall near the makeshift stage to leave their equipment.

Dedue watched him, eventually saying, “It’s okay to be nervous. I would say that I would rather you be nervous than not.”

“Are you?” Dimitri asked.

“Of course.”

Dimitri nodded. He wished he could say that he could relate, but his nerves were not the same. Dedue could have an off set and everyone knew that he was still an excellent guitarist. Dimitri knew that even if everyone appeared understanding, he couldn’t imagine that he would be able to be in the band if he fucked this up.

“Could I… make a request?” Dimitri asked.

“It depends what it is,” Dedue said.

Dimitri gulped. “Could you…” He winced, remembering what he was about to ask. He shook his head, but still pushed himself. “Would you be able to position yourself on my blind side? In case something happens or I miss a cue or whatever.”

Dedue nodded so quickly, Dimitri thought that he might have missed what he was asking. “Of course,” he said, “I would be honored.”

Dimitri smiled awkwardly. “Oh. Thank you,” he said quietly. 

He trailed behind Dedue before they positioned themselves in front of their mic stands. Dimitri lowered his head, tuning his guitar. He felt Annette rush past him as she yelled, “ _Felix_!” causing him to freeze in place.

Annette stopped in front of Felix, who was positioned toward the front of the crowd. Annette gestured toward Dimitri. He and Felix locked eyes. Dimitri watched his face shift into a glare and Dimitri turned away, hissing a curse under his breath.

“Oh! Oh no!” Annette exclaimed, loud enough for Dimitri to pick it up. Felix mumbled something in response and Annette said, “Well, I’m _so_ glad you showed up!”

Dimitri swore under his breath, feeling his eyes begin to tear up before he felt someone lean against him.

Dimitri turned around, realizing that it was Ashe.

“Don’t worry about Felix,” Ashe whispered. “He’s an asshole to everyone when he first meets them. Don’t take him seriously.”

Dimitri turned toward him, opening up his mouth even though he could only produce a low whine from the back of his throat. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, wincing when he remembered how loose they were on his hips. He knew he needed to reevaluate how he was taking care of himself, but it felt like an overwhelming effort. 

He nodded his head toward Ashe, not wanting to tell Ashe that his words were useless. He wanted to tell Ashe that he was mistaken. They should take Felix seriously. He was never actually wrong, especially in this situation.

He was asked by someone who owned the house to test his mic. He did so, mumbling check into the mic. His mind kept wandering toward Felix, an image cracked between the one standing near him and the versions he knew growing up. Felix with the clumsy hands of a child, grabbing Dimitri’s jumper when they had to form teams on the playground. Felix with bangs in his face as he shakily rested his forehead on Dimitri’s. Felix’s face red with anger as he screamed for him to get away.

There was a lifetime between the two of them and it seemed like nobody in his band was even aware.

“Well, it’s showtime!” Ashe chirped, walking back toward his keyboard. Dimitri looked up, realizing that everybody was watching him. Oh no, was he expected to say anything? They didn’t practice this part at all. 

“Hello everyone,” Dedue said. Dimitri turned his head, relieved that the audience was drawn to him. “We’re Postscript. Hope you enjoy what you hear.”

He leaned back to count off the first song and Dimitri frantically began to play. He could already feel that he was going too fast, his mind locating the drum beat, but not able to get his fingers or his mouth to slow down. He thought that he potentially found the beat toward the end of the song until he realized that he had finished several beats before everybody else.

He looked up from his guitar, relieved that the audience gave them tepid applause. They got ready for the next song and he saw two figures going down the steps.

Ingrid and Sylvain. His jaw locked.

“Dimitri, I’m going to count off,” Dedue said.

Dimitri brought his hand to his jaw, physically opening it. “Sure,” he said, wincing as he moved his mouth more. He watched Ingrid and Sylvain settle toward the back of the crowd. They leaned in toward each other, whispering. He could only imagine what they were saying about him.

Dedue counted off and this time he just missed his entrance. He counted two measures, trying to keep his breath steady before he joined in. His voice came out more like a yelp, each note too tight with anxiety.

Each song had a similar thing go awry. It also didn’t help that Dimitri knew he should be doing more physically. He could look at the crowd or move around like the lead singers that he loved watching when he attended shows. But whenever he thought about it, his eyes would shut and his feet would refuse to move from his position. 

By the end of the set, Dimitri couldn’t even find Felix, Ingrid, or Sylvain in the crowd. He couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t the type to leave a show, early, but he wouldn’t blame anyone considering it after a show like this.

He wouldn’t blame anyone if he got kicked out of the band after this.

He kept his head low as he put his instrument into the case. He saw a door that led outside and he took it, hoping he was fast enough that nobody noticed. There was a patch of darkness toward the edge of the yard and he stood in it, hoping that nobody would know who he was if he put his hood up. Maybe people just brought guitars to these shows in general.

He looked up, his jaw tightening again as he watched people talk amongst themselves. He knew that it was ridiculous to assume that everyone was talking about him. Even then, he couldn’t help but fear that was exactly the case. 

He saw Sylvain’s shock of red hair, his height always pulling attention toward him whether he intended to or not. He got close to Dimitri, but never looked in his direction. He instead focused on someone nearby, grabbing a cigarette from them before going toward the edge of the dark himself. He lit his cigarette, taking a pull before blowing smoke in the direction of the other person’s yard.

Dimitri froze, worried that if he walked he would draw attention to himself. Sylvain focused on the other yard for a moment before he turned toward Dimitri. He tilted his head, giving a smile that used to charm all the adults when they were growing up.

“Hey,” Sylvain said.

Dimitri felt his heart begin to pound against his ribcage. Again, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He tried to remind himself that Felix and Ingrid weren’t here. They’ve talked before. This could be an okay interaction.

“H-hello, Sylvain,” Dimitri stammered.

Sylvain brought his hand to his hair, pushing his bangs back only to have them fall back in his face. He was handsome, but even in the dark light, he looked tired. There were bags under his eyes and the finest lines of exhaustion form in the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. “I didn’t know you were coming back to music! Postscript is good people.”

No statement about how the set went. That was probably the most polite form of feedback he was going to get. “Yeah… yeah they are,” he agreed. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to come back to music. Especially after you told me that my perspective was missing in it.”

“I said that?” Sylvain asked.

“Y-yeah,” Dimitri said. He frowned. He knew that his memory was never the best, but he had that conversation imprinted on his mind since it happened. “You… you said that… if I was willing to be open about my… head…” He stopped, realizing that none of this appeared to remind Sylvain about the conversation. “Do you truly not remember?”

Sylvain laughed, smiling boyishly. “I mean, it sounds like stuff I would say!” he admitted, “But… I really don’t remember it.”

Dimitri went lightheaded to a point that he felt disconnected from the rest of his body. “Oh,” he said quietly, “Is that… so…” He tried to recreate the conversation in his mind. Surely it happened? He didn’t dream enough to get it confused with something like that. 

“So you don’t remember… any of it…” Dimitri said.

“Nah, not at all. Not saying it didn’t happen, of course. Just saying I don’t remember.” Sylvain brought his hand to his hair again, looking like he was tugging it more than running his fingers through it. “Uh… what else did I say during it?”

Dimitri rubbed the corner of his eye. He winced when he realized a tear was beginning to form in it. “You forgave me,” he said, “For… for what I did to all of you.”

Sylvain reached out, immediately bringing his hand back and slipping it back into his pocket. “I did,” he replied, “I… I mean I don’t remember, but I know I stand by it. We were all just kids. You needed treatment and you got it You did exactly what you were supposed to.”

“I did,” Dimitri agreed. He tried to smile, though he wasn’t sure if it came off like that. “Well. I will. See you around.” He finally got his legs to move, the shift in his weight flipping a switch in his mind to run. He pounded his feet on the grass, skidding when he hit the asphalt and charged past the gate. He wanted to run all the way home, reminding himself that it wasn’t fair to his bandmates. He compromised, slumping onto the curb and tossing his guitar halfway into the street. He slammed his fists onto his thighs, his mouth opening up into a silent scream as he did it. 

Of course this happened. The night that he tried to push himself and be someone worth taking up space he was told that it wasn’t the case. He was a worthless musician and apparently couldn’t even be remembered for a pivotal conversation. He slammed his fists once more, one sliding off his thigh and getting skinned by the curb. He hissed, checking it. There were flecks of blood that began to bead against his skin. He gritted his teeth, this time a scream coming out loud and clear.

He struggled to catch his breath, taking air sharply in his nose and forcing himself to breath out with his mouth. He repeated the gesture several times, his heartbeat lowering slightly and the red that consumed his vision fading more toward the corners of it.

He remembered some exercise he was taught about putting his face in cold water. He could probably go in and do that. Maybe he could find a bandage for his fingers while he was at it. He got up, walking back into the house before he slipped into the bathroom, hastily tossing cold water on his face. It gave him enough clarity to check his hands in the fluorescent light. It looked like most of the abrasions were mild enough that they went away once they were washed off. Dimitri felt guilty opening up the medicine cabinet and grabbing a few bandages and wrapping them around his knuckles. He splashed more water on his face, wiping it with his sleeves before he swung the door open. He scanned the top floor, realizing that none of his bandmates were there. He decided to go downstairs, locating them toward the back of the basement, huddled together. He was surprised that they opened up the circle to fit him in it, even though nobody made any effort to say anything.

“We saw you outside, but it looked like you were busy so we didn’t want to disturb you,” Annette explained.

“Yeah… thank you…” Dimitri said, even though he wished one of them could have fished him out of that mortifying conversation. He cleared his throat, lowering his head.

He wondered if they spent the set talking about how terrible he was during the set. It seemed like a possibility, seeing as though no one had any interest in continuing whatever the conversation was prior. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, if… if I may say something…” he started.

“Oh, sure. What’s up?” Ashe asked.

“I just… I wanted to thank you,” Dimitri said, “You provided me such a wonderful opportunity and I know I let you down. I am so, so sorry.”

“ _What_?” Annette asked.

“Oh… Dimitri you did _fine_ ,” Dedue said.

“It was your first live show. We’re going to get better and better!” Mercedes exclaimed.

“You can’t just give up on this,” Ashe said.

Dimitri blinked several times. “You… you mean it?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Dedue said, “We didn’t take letting you into this band lightly. We aren’t going to give up on you as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”

Dimitri pressed his thumb against one of his knuckles, feeling the pain shoot up his hand. He hissed, still nodding his head before he looked up at them again. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Also, I really want to apologize,” Annette said, “I invited Felix to the show. I had no idea that you two had a past until he mentioned it. I’m so sorry…”

“Oh… please don’t apologize,” Dimitri said, “You didn’t know. I need to figure out how to exist with him.”

The next band slammed a chord, ending the conversation. Nobody said anything, but they refused to move away from the circle. 

*

Dedue watched Dorothea stumble through her bubble tea order.

It wasn’t like her. She knew how to keep her composure, a byproduct of what Dedue assumed was from her years as an opera singer. 

She had been all nerves since she called him, asking if they could meet up. They would bring their drinks home, allowing Dorothea to see Dedue’s parents. She finished her order and Dedue made his own, the two of them waiting by the counter.

Dedue waited for her to say something. She was silent aside from thanking the workers before they left for his house. He tried to read the situation, deciding that if she was all over the place, she should try to bring her to the most comfortable place at his home, which was the garden. He tugged a few weeds out from a plot and sat on a bench. Dorothea joined him, sitting down and taking a slow sip of her bubble tea.

It had been years since they dated, but Dedue still felt his fingers twitch, tempted to brush them against her cheek. It was embarrassing to admit. They broke up for a variety of reasons and all of them came back to him and his own failings. There was never a conversation regarding either of them falling out of love. 

He was able to exist with these feelings well enough. He had relationships with other people and was able to appreciate Dorothea as his friend as opposed to the version of Dorothea that was his partner. He wondered if she ever had moments like this, but he never dared to ask her about it.

Dorothea pushed her hair toward her shoulder, brushing it with her hand before she said, “Well. Congrats on the first show with your new lineup.”

Dedue nodded. As appreciative as he was about her support of his career, he just wanted to keep moving forward from it. Dimitri got his feet wet, they knew what they had to work on, and he was hoping that they could get another show soon, if only to wash the taste of it out of his mouth.

The two of them sighed nearly in time.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Dedue admitted.

“You do,” Dorothea said, “Do you think he’s going to be able to stick with it long enough?”

Dedue truly considered it. He had accepted, even embraced, that Dimitri was fragile. He wasn’t screaming what he had gone through, but he certainly wore the emotions that impacted shaped him. He knew that once Dimitri could figure out how to express himself without damaging himself, then they might be able to survive.

“I hope so,” Dedue said, “I get along well with him, so… I would like him to.”

Dorothea smiled for the briefest moment before the concern on her face flattened it out. “I’m hearing. An awful lot about him nowadays.”

“Dimitri said he grew up with Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain. So I suppose there’s a history I don’t know about,” Dedue said.

Dorothea took a deep breath. “Yeah. They told me the same thing,” she said. There was something frail about her voice that was unsettling for him. 

“I’m sure whatever we’re hearing is a case of the truth being somewhere in the middle,” Dedue said.

Dorothea brought her drink to her mouth, but didn’t take a sip. She lowered the cup again before she said, “I… I’m not sure about this situation.” She combed through her hair again and said, “I know… rumors float around all the time. I am pretty good at determining what is a rumor and what’s not. But… I don’t think these three are lying to me.”

“What are you hearing?” Dedue asked.

“He’s… sick, Dedue. Like. Well beyond the usual oh I get sad sometimes kind of way. Like… hearing voices and responding to them kind of unwell.”

Dedue gripped his cup, the plastic aching under his finger. His stomach twisted at the news. It wasn’t that he was unsettled by this information. He wasn’t certain if he had ever met someone who struggled with voices like that, but he had met Dimitri enough times to feel that he could confidently say that he had no reason to be scared of him.

It also didn’t help that he didn’t like hearing this information from anyone except for Dimitri himself. It made him wonder how far that information was distributed. He didn’t think that Dorothea was the type of person to spread this information around, but with officially five people knowing about it, it was impossible for it to not have gotten into someone else’s hands. 

“Has he said anything about it?” Dorothea asked.

Dedue shook his head. “No… not that specifically. I have faith that he would tell me if it was necessary.” He cleared his throat, taking a long sip of his bubble tea as he carefully formed a response in his head. “Maybe it’s something he’s struggled with, but… there are medications for that, right?” He wished that he paid more attention to Mercedes’s workshops. She definitely went over this.

“I think there are,” Dorothea replied, “But I’m still concerned. You’ve got a good heart, Duey, but… I mean, you like to fix things. I don’t want you trying to fix some guy who’s broken in a way you’re never going to understand.”

Dedue raised his eyebrows. He didn’t feel like he was a fixer. He thought that he tended to keep to himself. He wanted to be supportive toward friends and partners and if it meant that he had to come over and make a few meals or listen to them talk at three o’clock in the morning, he was willing to do it. He wasn’t certain if he was at that level with Dimitri yet, but it felt like a logical shift in their relationship at some point. 

“I’m not a fixer,” he replied flatly.

Dorothea whined softly. “I’m not fighting with you about this,” she said, “Regardless, I’m worried about you. I know you don’t care for a lot of my bandmates, but it’s not like them to lie.”

He hated that Dorothea was right. As much as he had issues with Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain, their honesty was never a concern. Sylvain might have blacked out, but he was always apologetic about it. 

But even with that in mind, none of this felt like marks against Dimitri’s character. As much as he wanted to be appreciative of Dorothea’s concerns, he found anger billowing inside himself.

“I appreciate the concern,” he said. He could feel his tone becoming sharp. “I trust Dimitri. If I am wrong, then… that’s my fault.”

Dorothea took a deep breath. She finished the bubble tea and put the empty cup between her feet. “Please know I just… I want everyone to know your talents, Duey. I don’t know if he’s how you’ll be able to reach that.”

Dedue nodded his head. He swallowed his anger, clenching the cup in his hand and jumping when he heard how loudly it popped. 

*

Dimitri crossed his arms and stared at his living room. It was technically clean, but he still felt that it was incomplete. It probably didn’t help that he didn’t have much furniture. He didn’t need more than a tired couch and a long box he used as a coffee table, but it felt pathetic, especially when he was supposed to be hosting today.

It also didn’t help that his walls were bare. He wished that he had photographs or artwork that he wanted to put up. Unfortunately, after spending so many years disconnected from reality, he had little to nothing anchoring him in that way.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. It was Dedue announcing that he was approaching his door. He brought his freehand to his hair, yanking at it. He took a deep breath and opened up the door, catching Dedue as he was walking up the steps.

“Uh, welcome,” Dimitri said. He smiled nervously, smoothing his hair down. Dedue nodded his head and Dimitri ushered him in, closing the door behind them. Dimitri held his breath as Dedue walked around the room.

“This is a really nice place,” he noted.

“I don’t know how to decorate,” Dimitri mumbled.

“Well, you moved in recently, right? I can’t expect you to have everything set up.” Dedue walked toward the window overlooking the street. “The bones are good, though.”

“Well, thank my dad for that, I guess,” Dimitri said. He sat on the arm of the couch, sighing. “He’s the one paying for it…”

Dedue turned toward him, his face unreadable. Dimitri searched frantically for a furrowed eyebrow or a curled lip. 

“It’s a deal we have,” Dimitri explained, “I, uh… I’m still… I’m finally finishing up my associate’s.” He felt his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment and he pressed his hands against his face. “I had… a lot of health issues, so… I’m really behind.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Dedue said, “I got dragged to go to college, I understand.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his denim cutoffs and coughed. “Uh, my mom’s a college professor. I get to go for free. She wouldn’t let me say no.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Dimitri replied. He looked down at his feet, observing the mismatched socks in contrast with the hardwood floor. “I kind of… need to go to school. If I want to work with kids.”

“Do you have an idea what you want to do with them?” Dedue asked. He raised his hand and added, “Not that you need to know.”

Dimitri was tempted to dismiss his kind words. He _should_ know what he wanted to do. He had lived presumably more than quarter of his life and wasted most of it. The least he could do was know what he wanted to do once his father spent thousands of dollars on his education. 

“I don’t really know outside of the working with kids part,” Dimitri finally said. He turned away from Dedue, mumbling, “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

Dedue huffed. He stayed quiet for a long moment before he said, “Sure thing. I’m not picky, I promise.”

Dimitri was glad that he said he wasn’t picky, because as soon as he stepped into his kitchen, he realized that he didn’t have much to offer. He opened up the refrigerator and grabbed the salsa jar on the shelf. He poured it into a chipped bowl and grabbed a bag of slightly crushed chips. After filling two cups with water he returned to the living room, placing everything across the box in the middle of the room. 

If the chips are stale, Dedue doesn’t say anything. He takes a handful of shattered chips and tilts them into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before he asked, “Are you ready for the show?” 

Dimitri shrugged. It was hard for him to be excited for the show, even though he knew that he was supposed to be as the lead singer. Even if there was no talk about what would happen if he bombed another show, he couldn’t help but worry about it. 

“As ready as I can be,” Dimitri admitted.

“Remember to bring a jacket for after the set. The patio tends to get cold this time of year.”

Dimitri smiled nervously. It was a sentiment that pierced through his anxieties for a brief moment. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, poking his thumbs against the fabric. “We should practice,” he murmured.

Dedue nodded. He had brought his guitar case inside earlier, quietly unzipping it and taking it out before he started tuning. Dimitri grabbed his own guitar from a stand in the corner. 

Dimitri wished that he could practice with the band, but it sounded like legitimately everybody else was at work. It was still stressful trying to figure out how he was going to be able to perform at a reasonable level as Dedue watched him carefully.

He shut his eyes as he performed, the darkness allowing him a sense of distance. It was hard to gauge that his performance was any good with only the rhythm and lead guitar parts, but he tried his best. They ran through the entire set with his eyes shut tight, only opening them when he was done with the last chord.

Dedue had his hand to his brow, wiping sweat off of it. He caught his breath before he said, “You are improving so much.”

Dimitri pressed his lips together. “I mean,” he said, “I need to, right? I can’t fuck up another show.”

“We wouldn't kick you out, because of two bad shows, Dimitri,” Dedue said. “Just… please believe me when I say that.”

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, though,” Dimitri admitted. It felt too vulnerable. He braced himself, even if he wasn’t sure what it was for.

“I suppose I can’t change how you feel. But do know that if you were to leave the band, it would be your decision, not mine.”

“Understood,” Dimitri said. He wasn’t used to someone challenging him like this. Most people were caught up in his past and that he was too unstable to possibly butt heads with him. He didn’t fear it as much as he thought he should.

“How about this,” Dedue said, “Let’s drink some water and then I’ll drive us.”

Dimitri nodded. He got them cups of water and the two of them sat there, drinking them in silence before they went into the car. Dedue turned on music, but didn’t say anything. They went over the bridge and Dedue squeezed the wheel. He cleared his throat and said, “I want to speak to you about something,” he said. 

“Of course,” Dimitri replied.

“Uh… I’ve heard. Things about you. From people. I was wondering if you would like to hear it or if I should keep it to myself?”

“Well, what are you hearing?” Dimitri asked. He brought his finger toward the pull string of his hoodie and wrapped it around, tugging on it.

Dedue took a deep breath. “I have reason to believe that Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain are disclosing personal information about you.” Dimitri opened his mouth and Dedue seemed to know it without looking at him. He lifted his chin and said, “I am not here to play fact or fiction. I know you will tell me what I need to know when you are comfortable. But it felt wrong not telling you about this.”

Dimitri tugged at the pullstring of his hoodie, watching his finger turn bright red. He swore that the corners of his vision were beginning to fade into the same color. He took a ragged breath, hissing, “No… please, no…”

“I’m so sorry I dumped this on you right before the show,” Dedue said, “I just… I’m so sorry, Dimitri…”

Dimitri shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could get words out. The only thought that drummed through his head was that his dream of a fresh start was over.

“I’m sorry again,” Dedue murmured.

“It’s… it’s not your fault,” Dimitri said with gritted teeth.

He didn’t say anything else as they made their way toward the venue. It was an old building that featured a lot of exposed brick and little light source, barring the floodlights set up in the outdoor area. The rest of the band trailed in, friends and overzealous twenty-one year olds following close behind.

Even with the smiles and positive comments didn’t quite pierce through the wall that was beginning to form around him. He kept looking up in the crowd, wondering when Felix, Ingrid, or Sylvain would inevitably walk in. 

He took a sharp breath of air with enough force that his nose ached. He wished they would just leave him alone. It wasn’t like they didn’t know the name of his band at this point. Even if they were friends with other members, it didn’t make sense that they could be in the same space with him and complain about it like he was a surprise at this point. 

Inevitably, he saw them as he took to the stage. They came together this time around, standing toward the edge of the patio as if they could hide from the last grasp of lights. The red came back to his vision, spilling toward the bottom and seemingly growing more and more as Dedue gently reminded him to help with the mic check.

His body was at odds with itself. He wanted to bury himself in the dirt, but he also wanted to scream in everyone’s face. The impulses danced around his head and by the time Annette counted off the first song he was on the attack. 

For the first time he ran through the guitar work with authority, his hands racing along the strings with purpose. When he leaned into the mic his voice no longer sounded brittle and tentative. A wave of years of pain and loneliness poured out of his mouth and he had no interest in covering it up. Not anymore. Maybe never again.

The strap of his guitar was uncomfortable against his chest. It didn’t make much sense, but he swore he couldn’t get enough air. One of the songs transitioned to a guitar feature for Dedue and Dimitri decided he had enough, setting his guitar toward the edge of the stage. He swore he could see Mercedes’s break eye contact with the crowd, watching him carefully.

Dimitri didn’t care, yanking the mic off the mic stand and running his fingers through his greasy hair. He rushed toward the edge of the stage, which was some plywood that barely elevated them a foot off the ground. The edge still felt like enough of a shock, his body freezing up even if his mouth kept going.

And then he slid.

He held the mic, dropping to his knees, everybody staring at him. There was a beat and Dimitri realized that everyone thought it might be intentional, his band included. He slammed his hand on the ground and screamed out the next lyrics, not even caring if it tonally made sense. The people at the front screamed, several people lifting their phones and pointing the cameras right at him.

He looked up at their faces, tilting his head. They were sneering and smiling, reaching out toward him excitedly. He backed away from their potential touch, feeling that it was too close to the fire that was burning him from the inside out.

Dimitri quickly got himself up, hopping back on the stage and walking toward his guitar. It felt less restrictive against his chest, putting his mic back on the stand and continuing the rest of the set, his fingers still playing with precision even when he was leaned in and yelling each lyric as loud as he could.

The end of the set didn’t catch him by surprise, but he did feel himself crash. For the first time since he made this attempt to return to music, he didn’t want the set to end. He said, “Thank you,” before he walked toward the side of the stage.

He didn’t expect everybody rushing behind him. 

“Are you all right?” Mercedes asked, “You seemed pretty…”

“It was intense,” Annette said.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Dedue asked. He reached out and hovered his hand over Dimitri’s hand. Dimitri tentatively let him study it. Dedue murmured, “It looks a little scratched up.”

“I got Band Aids in my case if you need it,” Ashe added. He flitted toward his case and passed them his way. Dimitri huffed as Dedue demanded that he helped him, carefully laying two band aids on the inside of his hand. Dimitri flexed his hand as he heard footsteps approach.

Dimitri looked up, realizing the footsteps came from a shorter guy with bright blue hair and his companion, a hunched over person with long green hair that was somewhat pulled back.

“Hey! You were amazing!” the blue haired guy said, “It’s cool _finally_ having another trans guy in the scene.”

Dimitri’s eye went wide. “Wh-what?” he asked, clenching his hand. He looked down at himself, wondering what could have possibly given it away.”

“We saw your binder,” the green haired person explained.

“Oh,” Dimitri said. He still looked down and adjusted his hoodie, making sure he concealed it. He was relieved that everybody appeared to walk away from their conversation. While he never would deny that he was trans to his band mates, he never made an effort to come out to them about it. Even if it was a conversation he could manage, he wasn’t sure he would have the capacity to right after that set.

“You were awesome, dude! I’m Caspar, by the way” Caspar exclaimed, raising his hands over his head, “You brought so much fire! It was so!” He tilted his head back and let out a yell. 

Dimitri jumed. “Uh,” he said, “Well, I’m… Dimitri. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Linhardt,” the green haired person added.

“Together we make _Big Win_!” Caspar announced , posing dramatically. “We’re gonna be performing next.”

“Oh! Well, good luck,” Dimitri replied. “Uh, break a leg. My apologies.”

“Hey, thanks. Hopefully we’ll see you around?”

Dimitri genuinely considered the question. His impulse was to say no. It was bad enough that he was in a band and would have to make Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain be uncomfortable. But if they were going to keep appearing at shows, then what was the point in being meek about it?

“I hope so!” Dimitri trying to smile. Caspar and Linhardt appeared unbothered by the attempt. They said their goodbyes, citing that they had to focus on getting ready for their set and Dimitri was alone again with his stinging palm.

His band reappeared again, even though he wasn’t entirely certain where they were in the enclosed space. Annette put her hands on her hips and smirked. “You just joined the band and you’ve already got yourself a Big Win!”

Mercedes giggled as Ashe sighed. “He doesn’t know what that means yet,” Ashe pointed out.

“Well, what does it mean?” Dimitri asked.

“They are in an open relationship and tend to favor threesomes,” Dedue said flatly.

“Oh!” Dimitri gasped. He cleared his throat. “I mean… I suppose… that prevents cheating.” He felt his cheeks warm up. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it! But we were just talking!”

He couldn’t help but laugh nervously and found himself relieved when they joined him.

*

Dedue couldn’t help but watch as their train raced over the river. The city was electric, the skyline bright with a glittering of lights. He didn’t want to think that he was someone who was easily charmed by the city. He grew up in the area for most of this life. It felt silly to be like the wide-eyed transplants who thought that their lives began and ended in it.

At least he was with people who weren’t judging. It was why he liked his band so much. They appeared to be the people in the scene that not just respected him, but embraced him. 

The four of them appeared to be lost in conversation, Annette laughing loudly before covering her mouth. Dimitri appeared flustered, his hands raised as he tried to clear up some miscommunication.

“I thought you were joking about the place having pierogis!” Dimitri exclaimed.

“No, that’s totally it's a thing,” Mercedes said, “It’s always the same older woman who works in the kitchen, too.”

“Oh, wow… should we get them?” he asked.

“You have to,” Dedue said, everybody tilting their shoulders to let him be a part of the conversation. “It’s a tradition.”

Dimitri’s smile faltered for a moment before he nodded his head. “Well, I do not want to break such an important tradition!” he exclaimed. He cleared his throat and muttered, “Also, uh. I’ve been trying to… go with the flow, but who is it that we’re going to be seeing?”

“Oh, we’re seeing Mockingbird!” Ashe exclaimed, “I used to date the lead singer and I’m still good friends with him. The rest of the band is great, too.”

“How would you describe their sound?” Dimitri asked.

Dedue’s eyes darted away as Ashe’s shoulders lowered. “Uh, well…” Ashe started.

“They’re… a bit experimental…” Annette said.

“Yes, I think that would be a good word for it,” Mercedes agreed.

“They’re certainly different from, like, bands in our scene,” Dedue said, stumbling over his words.

“How so?” Dimitri asked, “You can just tell me. My former stepsister is in a goth band, I’m not… unfamiliar with different types of music or anything.”

“Oh, is she local?” Annettee asked.

“Somewhat!” he replied, “Uh, their name is Crimson Midnight. They’re more based out of New York City, though…”

Dedue snapped his attention back toward the conversation. “Dimitri, is your former stepsister _Edelgard von Hresvelg_?”

Dimitri nodded. “Yeah, she is,” he replied, “I know she used to do a lot of shows near us back in the day… do you know her?”

“She’s an incredible musician,” Mercedes said, “It was always a pleasure seeing her at basement shows back in the day.”

“She dates Dorothea now,” Ashe added.

Dedue opened his mouth, already feeling himself stammering. “Y-yes, she does. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with her.”

Dimitri slowly nodded his head. “Well, I’m glad. She… she’s a good person. We don’t really talk much anymore, but… it happens sometimes with divorces, I guess.”

Everybody nodded. Dedue looked down at his feet. For the first time in his life, he considered if he should move out of the area, if only to avoid meeting someone who was a complete stranger still entangled in mutual friends.

“So are they goth?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh, well…” Annette started, “They, uh…”

“The show is twenty-one and over due to content,” Ashe said. 

“Is it dirty?” Dimitri asked.

“S… sure,” Annette said, “They, uh. Are a bit. Creative with how they use the stage.”

Dedue continued to half listen to the conversation, facing the window again. He had spent quite a bit of time with Edelgard and she never mentioned that she had a stepbrother. She didn’t really say much about her family aside from the few times she would say that she had to focus on their issues. It was also carefully packaged and with clear walls to keep Dedue from prying. 

They arrived at their stop, the five of them filing out of the train before Ashe led them toward the correct exit. There was an exciting chill in the air. They waited on line for the place to open, the five of them huddled together and continuing their conversations before they were able to get inside.

“Pierogies are in the side room,” Dedue said to no one in particular, leading everyone toward the brightly lit room next to the bar area. Sure enough, an older woman wearing too much blue eyeshadow and shimmering hot pink lip gloss was taking orders, passing paper plates toward anyone who ordered. Mercedes got her order first, zipping toward the closest open table. They all slowly got their orders and made their way toward the table with Mercedes. 

Everybody ate, Dimitri watching everyone take a bite before he joined with a tentative one of his own.

“What do you think?” Dedue asked.

“Oh!” Dimitri exclaimed, “Uh, it’s very good!” He took a sip of his beer and nodded his head. 

Dedue nodded his head. He just hoped that Dimitri was having a good time and wasn’t just saying he was to please everybody. He didn’t have a ton of evidence that Dimitri was the type of person who would do this. 

Dedue decided that he was definitely overanalyzing a guy eating pierogies. So he refocused on anything else.

“Uh, Mercedes,” he said, “Did you finish up revising your workshop?” 

“Almost!” Mercedes chirped.

“What’s it on?” Dimitri asked.

“That’s right! You haven’t seen any of my workshops yet,” Mercedes said. She took a polite bite of her pierogi before she said, “It’s about mental health support, specifically in peer groups supporting someone who is suicidal.”

Dedue found himself needing to refocus on Dimitri again. It felt wrong analyzing how the corners of Dimitri’s lips twitched before he said, “Oh, uh. That sounds like tremendous work.”

“If it helps people then it’s worth it,” Mercedes replied. 

“That’s a fair point,” Dimitri replied.

“Oh! Uh, it sounds like my dad is going back on tour for who knows how long,” Annette said. She pouted, only wiping it off her face to take a sip of her beer. “I’m probably going to stop by home and keep my mom company for the weekend, so let’s try to practice sometime before Friday.”

“Your father is a musician?” Dimitri asked.

“Yeah, a guitarist,” Annette said, “His stage name’s Gilbert Pronislav. He’s been in a bunch of bands. You can look him up.”

“ _Really_?” Dimitri asked, “Yes, I’ve heard of him! He’s a legend!”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Annette said. She pressed the pads of her fingers against the can, causing it to make a popping noise. “I mean, he’s an amazing musician. For sure. But he’s kind of a mediocre dad, if we’re being real here.”

“I see…” Dimitri said, “I… I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Annette raised her hand. Dedue knew by now that there was no point in pushing her. The fact that she could even consider him mediocre was a major development from the years that she spent defending him anytime someone’s face fell when she revealed more insight about her past.

“Well, you know now,” Ashe said. 

Dedue wondered if he had something that would be a good way to change the subject. Unfortunately, his mind was coming up blank. The highlights of his week was that time he spent with Postscript. Other than that, it was working at the florist shop and sharing meals with his parents. He knew his life was relatively unspectacular, especially once he realized that being a musician wasn’t nearly as exciting as people probably wanted to think it was.

“Damn, it’s the whole band!” someone exclaimed. They all looked up and spotted Sylvain walking over. Dedue reached out toward Dimitri, making sure to keep it hovering and never quite touching him. 

Sylvain appeared to have brighter eyes than usual. Dedue wondered if they were catching him at a time that he was pleasantly buzzed as opposed to a distraught level of intoxication. He was all smiles, his hands behind his neck as he stopped at the head of the table.

“You’re here to see Mockingbird?” Sylvain asked.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Ashe replied.

“Is it gonna be your first time seeing them, Dimitri?” Sylvain asked.

Dimitri blinked several times. He took a deep breath before he said, “Yes, it is! I’ve been told they put on… quite a show.”

Sylvain laughed gently. “Uh, yeah. That’s the politically correct way of putting it, I think. But you’ll appreciate the musicality, I’m sure.”

Dedue lowered his hand. It was a relief to see this side of Sylvain. It made him remember that this facet of him was probably always there, only buried under whatever was vice that was going to get him through the day. 

It sucked. Dedue hated having things be as simple as that, but it did. He knew that there was some version of Sylvain he would have loved to be friends with. Maybe he would have been one of the people he slept with and it would have just been a positive hook up between people who admired each other. But Dedue knew even when he was younger that it could never happen.

Sylvain excused himself, saying goodbye to everybody before he disappeared into the bar area. They finished up their food and went toward the stage, trying to find a spot that would be the best compromise between the shortest and tallest members of the band. The opener was not particularly noteworthy, but Dedue always liked witnessing live music with people. He leaned in toward Dimitri and greeted Dimitri’s opinions. He tended to have input regarding technical skill and song structure, trying to get as much as he could of his feedback out before the next song started.

The air shifted as Mockingbird got ready to take the stage. Even if they weren’t the opener, it was obvious that a sizable amount of the crowd was there for them. They tended to have a specific look. They had brightly colored hair that they seemed to put a lot of effort into styling and liked to wear harnesses and leather detailing whenever possible. Dedue admired them for being able to make their fans feel comfortable presenting themselves that way.

Most of the band took to the stage, getting set up at their places. Dedue didn’t know them well, but he admired them for their artistry. Even with the dramatics their live shows became known for, they were extraordinarily talented if they were stripped down to a collective of musicians.

The lead singer sauntered onto the stage, leaning in toward the mic with his hips jutted out. Dedue didn’t like to say that he was proud of the backstories he accrued for each person in the scene or adjacent to it, but he couldn’t help but know a bit about Yuri. He apparently knew Ashe when they were younger and was the ex Dedue got an earful about during late night conversations with him in Ashe’s bedroom.

The consensus was always complicated. It sounded like Yuri cared deeply about the people he connected to, but there was something that seemed ready to sabotage him at every turn. From what Dedue could surmise, it sounded like it was probably his own doing.

Even then, Dedue would never consider Yuri fragile. There was something hard about him, even when he moved with a gentle curve to his wrist and a sharp hip bone exposed as he posed. His face was covered in makeup, but couldn’t blur out the hardlines of his face and the way that he moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Even with his beautiful voice, he never seemed to be entirely submerged in the music. There was always an effort to entertain and make sure that everybody paid attention to his body while it was on display.

The set opened with the musicians staying mostly stationary. Yuri’s stage presence was unparalleled as he moved with a flow that looked more like he was in a photoshoot. When Dedue was able to stop staring at the stage he could see nearby photographers seeing it as an opportunity to treat the set as such. They took photo after photo, Yuri occasionally granting them eye contact.

The second song resulted in Yuri taking the mic off the stand, stalking the stage. Dedue considered warning Dimitri about what was going to happen next, but he resisted. Instead he focused on Yuri, who spilled himself in his drummer’s lap. The drummer, Balthus, appeared prepared for the motion. He kept the beat by hitting his snare with one hand as the other helped Yuri sit in his lap, grinding against him.

Yuri crooned in response, leaning in and continuing to sing the song. When the guitarist took over for a solo, Balthus appeared to readjust himself against Yuri and Yuri tilted his head back, moaning.

Dedue couldn’t help but turn toward Dimitri, who had his fingers against his lips. His eye found Dedue and he smiled nervously, quickly focusing again on the stage again. Dedue felt his cheeks warm up and he lowered his head.

Yuri brought the mic close and continued to sing again. His voice was more hollow now, lyrics occasionally getting caught in a moan. He finished the song with his back arched, Balthus’s massive hand running up his stomach.

“I… I understand what you were talking about. They are. Quite shocking,” Dimitri murmured.

“We can step out if you need to…” Dedue started.

“Oh, no! Not at all. It’s… it’s inspiring, in a strange way. I wish I could have that level of confidence.”

Dedue opened up his mouth, relieved that the band started the next song. He took a deep breath, hugging his arms. He found himself unable to look at Yuri for too long, if only because he swore the lights would make his hair suddenly appear blond, the shadows making his figure appear taller and wider than he usually did.

He kept finding his mind wandering in that direction. It was not unpleasant, even if it felt wholly inappropriate. Dimitri was his band mate. He was hardly someone who refused to date someone in a band, but there was something fragile about his relationship with Dimitri that made it feel inappropriate. 

The set ended with him still working through those feelings. He turned toward Dimitri and noticed that Dimitri had his hand to his chin, appearing lost in thought.

“So what did you think?” Dedue asked.

“I think…” Dimitri started, furrowing his eyebrows. “I think I wish I could be a flashy front person like that.”

Dedue’s eyes widened. “You mean…” he started.

Dimitri turned toward him, waving his hands. “Oh, no! No! I wouldn’t…” He rolled his wrist dramatically. “...with somebody on stage, but… I wish I could sing and actually put on a show in the process.”

“You’ve got time to figure out your own style!” Mercedes said, bumping her shoulder against Dimitri’s. Dedue took a deep breath, relieved that someone jumped into the conversation.

“I guess I just wish I already knew it,” Dimitri admitted.

Mercedes leaned in and whispered something in his ear. It seemed to be sufficient, Dimitri nodding and giving her a faint smile. She hovered her hand on his shoulder before she said, “I’m going to swing by the bar for a moment. I want to see if I can catch Sylvain before he becomes too inebriated.”

They said their goodbyes to her and she disappeared into the crowd, leaving the rest of the band dealing with people bobbing and weaving around them.

“Would you be up for saying hi to the band with me?” Ashe asked, “Dimitri, I can introduce you to everybody.”

“I would love that,” Dimitri replied.

Annette and Dedue nodded. They walked through the crowd, entering a side room that the merch was being sold out of. They stood by the side of the Wolves, waiting patiently for the band to slowly come out. Once they all appeared relatively settled, Ashe approached, everybody excitedly greeting him. He gestured toward the rest of the band and Annette, Dedue, and Dimitri took steps closer. 

Even with the differences in their music and approaches, Mockingbird were relatively easy to talk to. They had quirks like how Balthus and the bassist, Constance, were very loud by Dedue’s standards, but he enjoyed their conversations. Yuri was a bit elusive, but Dedue knew that he was the last person to pry about it. The guitarist, Hapi, was the one that he connected with the best. She had a slightly more sarcastic tone that Dedue gravitated towards and he was happy that Dimitri and he were content talking to her for the most part.

“So, like, what’s your deal?” Hapi asked Dimitri, “Have you been in bands before?”

“Oh, I mean… uh, not since I was a kid,” Dimitri said. His nose screwed up and he added, “I’ve never been a lead singer before, so it’s taken a bit of… adjusting.”

“Well, is Big Dee over here helping you at all?” Hapi asked.

Dedue opened his mouth, ready to defend himself as Dimitri said, “Oh, absolutely. He is truly an inspiration. I look to him on the stage and I realize… maybe I can actually do this.”

Dedue stared at Dimitri as Hapi smirked. “Really?” Dedue whispered.

Dimitri nodded. Dedue considered prying him and getting more information out of him, but he resisted. If Hapi saw how lost they probably looked to each other, she didn’t say anything, asking Dimitri questions about his guitar.

Dedue saw Mercedes approaching the group. She gave a tepid greeting to everyone, staying close to Dedue’s side.

“Did you find Sylvain?” Dedue asked.

Mercedes bobbed her head up and down. She paused and said, “Yes. Yes! It’s okay.”

“It’s okay?” Dedue furrowed his eyebrows.

She turned toward him and laughed nervously. “Oh, you mean Sylvain! I saw him! He’s fine!” She coughed nervously, waving her hand. “What did I miss?” 

Dedue knew better than to try to pry in the middle of a merch room. He swallowed his concern down and smiled weakly before he caught her up.

*

Dimitri watched Mercedes lay out his jacket on the floor. He was grateful that she had suggested they spend time together. He still didn’t have much one-on-one time with her, Annette, or Ashe, but he was happy to accept the invitation.

He was getting more familiar with the Postscript house. The bulk of his exploration was in the basement and the kitchen, but it was nice seeing how her room was laid out. It was cozy and covered in a variety of chockies like felted creatures impossibly tiny easels displaying equally impossibly tiny paintings. It took several minutes for him to realize that they were framing containers of random body parts and fetal animals in scientific jars. 

Even with the unsettling imagery, Dimitri found himself glad that Mercedes was willing to spend her afternoon teaching him how to sew. She assured him that it would be simple enough, but he was unsure, if only because he was certain his stepmother tried to in the past. 

Mercedes reached out toward him and he pushed handfuls of patches at her. He didn’t realize how many he had acquired without even knowing how to put them, but Mercedes didn’t make any comment. Instead she laid out patches of canvas against the jacket, watching his face react to each placement until she could determine if she should readjust it. Eventually, he joined her, taking an Against Me! patch from two albums ago and placing it on a sleeve. Mercedes grabbed a pin cushion, carefully pinning each patch once they finalized the placement and she grabbed a green container from her bed. She opened it up, showing off rows of spools of thread. “Pick out whatever thread you want to use. You could try to color match, but a contrasting color might be nice, too,” she noted.

Dimitri picked up each spool, eyeing the patches on his jacket. He took a black spool, laying it next to a patch that just said “HE/HIM” on it.

“Perfect,” she said. She brought the jacket into her lap, tapping the spot next to her. He scooted over as she took a needle out from a plastic container, showing him the process of threading the needle and getting everything started. “You want to try to keep everything as flat as possible, so you don’t create any wrinkles in the patch,” she explained. She did several stitches until Dimitri said, “Oh, okay,” and she shifted the jacket into his own lap. He carefully rearranged it, trying to be mindful of the pins.

“Take your time,” she said, “And if you don’t like how it looks, we can always rip the stitches out and start over. No harm done,” she said. She turned around, grabbing a cookie from the plate she had set up on the desk, nibbling it while watching him. 

He tried to focus on the motion, finding himself frustrated by trying to get the needle through all the layers of denim. He began yanking the needle with force, the fabric puckering as he stitched. He tried to keep going, hoping it would straighten itself out, but the puckering got worse and worse. He tried to focus on finishing up the patch, but with one side left he found himself unable to lay the patch down flat. He looked up and saw Mercedes’s lips press together and he shoved the jacket off his lap, sighing loudly. “I ruined it,” he mumbled.

“Nonsense,” Mercedes said calmly. She picked up the jacket and brought it close to her, inspecting the patch. “I just told you we can rip out the stitches, remember?” She leaned back to the desk, grabbing some sort of metal hook that she brought to the patch and began to tear out the stitches. Dimitri tried to focus on the motion, the sound of the thread snipping, and get caught up in that as opposed to the constant thoughts about how he was an idiot.

Mercedes ripped an entire end of stitches before she said, “I was wondering if I could ask you something. Promise me if it’s too much for you, you’ll ask me to stop?”

Dimitri felt like his head disconnected from his body. He pulled his hood on and yanked on the strings, grateful that she didn’t pry. “Oh, sure. Yeah.”

She smiled, though Dimitri was certain it was far tighter than the other smiles she tended to give him. She eventually looked down, continuing to rip several stitches before she said, “I found out something a bit… distressing… when I stopped by the bar at Warsaw on Saturday. Could I talk to you about it?”

Dimitri felt lightheaded hearing a more solemn tone in her voice. He slowly nodded his head and said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Well, I was speaking with Catherine from Thunderbrand and she brought up Felix’s brother, Glenn. And that you were close with him.”

Dimitri’s jaw clenched. It sounded wrong hearing his name out of her mouth. “Oh, yeah. Uh, what about him?”

Mercedes looked down at her own hands, watching them move before she said, “Catherine said he was in the scene back in the day. He was apparently a very promising guitar player from out of town. I forgot about him until she brought him up. We didn’t know each other, but I know I saw him around. He was a bit cocky, but he wasn’t… cruel like Felix could be. And when I asked what became of him, she told me that he was at a corner store and an armed robber barged in. Someone was held hostage and he intervened. It took her a moment, but she realized that it might have been you. Is that true?”

Dimitri felt his teeth ache from how hard he was clenching. It was difficult to say any of this was a trigger when he had little to no memory of the incident, even if he was told by multiple professionals at this point it was. He saw a smaller, brighter-eyed Felix sticking out his blue-stained tongue from the Slurpee Glenn bought them and then he saw the cup on the ground, the melted drink mixing with the blood along the scuffed white floor.

“It’s true,” Dimitri admitted. 

Mercedes nodded, ripping the last bit of the patch. “I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about it,” she said.

“I think talking about it as much as I did got me in this mess,” he murmured. He thought about when Felix saw him at the first show. How outraged he looked that Dimitri was even in this space with him.

Mercedes’s face seemed to finally relax, her lips quirking together briefly before she said, “There are helpful and hurtful ways to talk about this, it’s true. But that doesn’t mean that you should never speak about it.”

She spoke in a way that meant that she either trained to become a therapist or she went to her fair share of therapy. It was a language that he could fall into if he allowed himself to. A tone that was tempting to take on when Dedue refused to tell him what was bothering him or any time he saw Sylvain. But the second someone slung it back at him he found himself bristling. It meant that he revealed too many weaknesses. They could run away with them and never come back.

“There isn’t much to say,” he finally replied. He checked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t about to sling a retort back. “It happened. I don’t remember much. Glenn died and Felix…” Felix entirely changed. Dimitri probably did himself, but he was less sure how. It seemed like it just amplified what was already there, probably since he was born. But with Felix, a switch was flipped. At first he thought it was resentment toward him and the role he played that night, but as he watched Felix attack everyone they were close to, even his own father, he realized that it ran so deep and he all he could do was try to hold onto whatever was left of his best friend. 

Mercedes nodded her head. “He’s still pained by it. It makes sense,” she said. She leaned in toward him, making sure to maintain enough distance that their bodies did not touch. “But… how do I put this lightly… I don’t care about Felix. Not in this moment, at least. I care about you. And wish to support _you_.”

“But…” Dimitri started and he could feel the intensity in her glare. He shook his head and sighed, leaning back against the desk. What did he need right now? Whenever he spoke about Glenn, it was with people who knew him. The conversation never went beyond how noble Glenn was for sacrificing himself for Dimitri. “...Is it strange that I just want to talk about Glenn? Not how he died or anything like that. Just… him, I guess.”

“Tell me,” Mercedes said encouragingly. She began yanking the loose threads out of the denim. 

“He’s the one who taught Felix and me how to play guitar,” he explained. Mercedes brought the jacket back into his lap and got a needle threaded for him. He tried to start stitching the patch, letting himself get into a rhythm before he continued. “He… he supported us a whole lot. Felix came out to him before any of us. I came out as a lesbian to the two of them first, which…” He allowed himself to smile and wave his hand. Mercedes laughed gently. “...I was still figuring stuff out,” he admitted. He looked down at the patch and saw that it was still flat on the denim. “He was still a big brother, mind you. He would kick us out of the basement if he was playing video games and he taught us how to get on the roof of his house only to lock the window on Felix and me, but…” He shrugged, pausing his sewing again. “...I don’t know. I was happy. As stupid as it sounds.” It felt strange being this open with anyone, let alone a person he was still trying to get to know. Even if the connection was intoxicating, he knew that he couldn’t give into it entirely.

“I think you underestimate some of the crueler things I did to my brother growing up,” she said. She craned her neck to check the patch and said, “Keep going, you’re doing great.”

“I’m not sure what else to say,” he confessed, “What did you do to him?”

“Oh, little things,” she confessed, “Most of them were like me promising to make him something sweet, then making it savory without telling him. Nothing too bad, I don’t think.” She grinned. “I decorated it all pretty, too, and then he would take a bite out of it and make the funniest face.”

Dimitri laughed, though he found himself still thinking about Glenn and Felix. He wished Felix was there to guide him through the memories, because all his mind could come up with were fragments like Glenn passing him a mix tape with his favorite music on it. Going to a carnival and Felix slipping in mud, grabbing at Dimitri and Glenn and pulling them down with him. Glenn adjusted his hand on the neck of his first guitar and gave him a compliment. There was relief in recalling these moments, until the familiar sensation of guilt tinted everything. It’s not like Glenn was his brother. It’s not like he hadn’t outlived Glenn for over a decade at this point. 

“But I miss him,” Dimitri said, realizing that he was supposed to be having a conversation with Mercedes. “Glenn,” he clarified. He was relieved that she just nodded her head. “I miss him. I know it’s been so many years, but… he meant a lot to me. And I miss Felix. I don’t need who he used to be, I just… want him back in my life without this tension between us. I just wonder if Glenn was the only thing keeping us together.”

Mercedes quietly leaned forward, placing her finger on the patch and inspecting his stitches. “Maybe he was,” she admitted. He realized he had stopped stitching at some point and grabbed the needle again, trying his best to refocus himself. “But I think regardless of what it was or wasn’t, you need to realize two things. One is that you have to accept you have done everything you can. I didn’t know you before you tried out, but you’ve already changed so much since you started. For the better.”

He wanted to ask her how, but he resisted. It was a conversation for another time.

“The second,” Mercedes said, “Is that you have to accept that maybe he will never come around. The pain is too much. And in that case, you have to let him go, Dimitri. You may have to let Sylvain and Ingrid go along with him. Because that’s just how people work sometimes. They make alliances, even if you don’t agree with them.”

Dimitri slowly nodded his head. He focused on his sewing for a long while, finishing up the edge of the patch and placing it down.

“On the bright side,” she said, checking the patch, “Ah, this looks _perfect_. Good job.” She looked up at him and smiled before she repeated, “On the bright side, if everybody wishes to work on things, it should be easy enough to repair.” 

He selected another black patch on his sleeve and clumsily rethreaded the needle.

“It probably sounds strange. Having to let them go to get them back. But that’s how life goes sometimes, I’m afraid,” Mercedes noted.

Even if he could see logic in her advice, it still made a lump form in his throat. He tried his best to brave a smile, sewing several more patches before he felt like he was underwater. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a decent job downplaying how he was feeling, but Mercedes didn’t pry, which was a relief. She offered him to stay for a meal and he turned it down, saying that he had school work. She helped him out with some sewing supplies and Dimitri found trying to figure out how he was going to walk back home with his jacket still partially pinned. He stumbled into his apartment, tossing his jacket on the floor before he closed the door behind him. He slid against the door, holding his legs and tucking them under his chin.

He knew that he was in trouble. If he had any self preservation, he would have stayed with Mercedes. He didn’t have to say that his mind was tanking. There was a clear invitation, but the thought of Mercedes seeing any more vulnerabilities was too much. She already knew for too much.

Horrible thoughts began to slog through his brain. He yanked at his hair as he tried to ignore them, taking his phone out of his pocket. He could call up his father. He knew that all he had to do was tell his dad that he needed to be picked up and he would gladly do it. He probably would be excited to see him, seeing as though he cancelled on their dinner last week to go to the show at Warsaw. 

But he knew that if his father realized that he was struggling, his effort to live on his own could potentially end. He couldn’t reach out to him unless he wanted to potentially have a conversation in which he had to defend himself living alone.

His phone lit up. He brought it closer to his face, noticing that Dedue had sent him a text. Dimitri opened it up and was greeted to a blurry photo of a dog Dedue had seen in the floral shop he worked at. It was enough to make him smile for a brief moment and realize that maybe he could get him to come over.

He asked when Dedue got out of work and Dedue replied quickly enough, saying that he had about an hour left.

Dimitri asked if he would want to come over, agonizing over what sort of punctuation he should use. He decided to keep it simple. Use a question mark. Wait, maybe two just to come off like he is feeling lighthearted.

It worked, because not only did Dedue say he would love to, but he asked if Dimitri had any plans. Dimitri said he didn’t and nearly threw his phone, terrified that it would reveal too much. He then added that it might be fun to do a sleepover. He almost threw his phone for different reasons this time around.

Dedue seemed entertained enough by the additional information. He said that he would make sure to bring something and he finally flipped his phone over, pushing it away from himself. He hugged his legs tighter, trying to keep his breathing steady. He had to keep it together for another hour. It seemed less daunting than some nonspecific idea of the rest of his life.

He continued to sit in front of his door, his lower back aching when Dedue finally knocked on the door. He got up, having to stretch before he let Dedue in. Dedue took the invitation for him to stay over seriously, a tight backpack on his back with a pillow under his arms.

“Oh, you took the sleepover part seriously,” Dimitri said.

Dedue shrugged. “I didn’t get to go to many growing up. So I got a bit excited.”

Dimitri walked to the kitchen, relieved that he remembered to get snacks last time he went grocery shopping. He opened up a container of hummus and set up chips and carrots on a plate. He was pretty certain they were fresh. He placed them on the box in the middle of the room and sat next to it, waiting for Dedue to join him.

“I slept over Felix’s a lot,” Dimitri said. He crushed a chip in his hand and began to slowly eat the shards.

“Right. You two were close. That makes sense.” Dedue helped himself to some carrots and said, “I never got to go to any, because all my friends were girls. No boys allowed or whatever.”

“You weren’t missing much, I’m sure,” Dimitri said, “Girl sleepovers are a lot of passive aggressive attempts at makeovers and threats to make out with each other.” As much as his childhood hurt to revisit, it was nice being able to be open about being trans. He still never had a formal conversation about it, but having Caspar and Linhardt always making a big deal about it, because they were a community of sorts was pleasant in its own way. It made him remember that even during the tailspin of Felix and his relationship, he still appreciated being seen as a man by someone else who understood.

“Well, any successful make out sessions?” Dedue asked.

Dimitri sighed. “That happened more often when Sylvain was thrown into the mix.” He cringed and added, “And of course sometimes it… escalated beyond that.” He finished the crumbs of his chip. “I think you dodged a bullet.”

“I might have,” Dedue admitted, “I think teenage me being too scared to proposition anybody might have paid off.” He quickly covered his mouth and added, “Not that it’s… immoral that you were with people. I don’t want to cast judgment on that.”

Dimitri slowly nodded his head. As much as he hated the topic, he appreciated having something to focus on that wasn’t his mind getting dangerously close to darkness. “It was a bad idea,” Dimitri said, “It wasn’t immoral, but… it hurt all of us in different ways. Some of it could have worked at a different point, but it definitely wasn’t going to when we were sixteen.”

Dedue nodded, eating another carrot. “Uh, so… did you have any plans in mind other than… talking about our mistakes as teenagers? We can talk about it if it helps you, but… I will admit mine were pretty uneventful compared to yours.”

“We definitely don’t have to,” Dimitri confirmed.

Even then, neither of them selected a new topic. They grew silent, the two of them eating. Dimitri realized that he had to offer drinks and he did so, the two of them drinking water.

“Thank you for inviting me over,” Dedue added, “It’s nice not just… going back home.” 

Dimitri furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t heard anything negative about Dedue’s family, but he tended to assume that people didn’t have great relationships with their families as an unfortunate default. 

“Oh, there’s no… sad reason,” Dedue said, “I love my family very much. But my sister moved out and I’m just… a bit old to be living with them, I suppose.”

“I’ve lived with my dad until this summer,” Dimitri said, “I’m the last person to judge something like that.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons.” Dedue held his cup, but did not drink from it.

“And I’m sure you did, as well.” Dimitri cleared his throat. He wasn’t used to wanting to talk when he got like this. He usually went nonvrbal hours ago, contemplating horrible things. He wondered if it was a sign that he was getting better or if he was good at hiding how he felt from even himself.

Conversation flickered in and out as the day continued. It was something Dimitri found himself less scared of when he was talking to Dedue than with anybody else. Dedue insisted on them ordering a pizza and Dimitri agreed to it, quietly eating slices as they half watched some videos on Youtube. 

It was a distraction and an effective one. Dimitri knew that he was not supposed to see this as a sign, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Dedue was such a comforting force for him, unless his feelings ran deeper than friendship or creative partners. Even then, he made sure to not fall into bad habits. He made sure Dedue had space on the couch, refusing to fit himself against his side. He didn’t go into length about Dedue’s features or his personality, just smiling and expressing fondness toward him. He hated that he sounded a bit hollowed out, a mix of the real emptiness he felt from his conversation with Mercedes as well as the fact that he was trying to not slip up and say something about Dedue he couldn’t take back.

He kept himself together when Dedue asked where he should sleep. He appeared ready to set up the couch, but Dimitri shook his head.

“I would… would you mind sleeping on the floor of my room?” Dimitri asked.

Dedue blinked, rubbing his knuckles against the shaved part of his hair. “Are you certain?” he asked, “That sounds very much like a sleepover.”

Dimitri nodded. He hated saying he was scared to try to sleep. He didn’t sleep enough to really fear it. But he did fear being in his room unattended. They ripped the cushions off the sofa and set them up on the floor, Dimitri finding an extra set of sheets as Dedue carefully draped them over. The result was a lumpy, but effective nest, Dedue flopping on top of it with his pillow, shifting as Dimitri turned out the light.

“And you’re certain that you want to sleep on the floor,” Dimitri asked in the darkness.

“It’s quite comfortable,” Dedue said.

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. He took a shuddering breath and he heard Dedue shift. 

“Dimitri, are you all right?” Dedue asked.

Dimitri nodded, balling his hands against his face. He felt a tear or two escape from his eyes and he let them fall, relieved that it was dark enough in his room that Dedue hopefully didn’t notice. “Sorry,” he said, “I… I appreciate you so much. Thank you for coming over. I… I really needed somebody to be here.”

“I like spending time with you,” Dedue said. There was an agonizingly long silence between the two of them before he said, “I don’t mind being there for you if you are having a difficult time. I get that it’s not easy to ask that of someone, but… if I can be a source of comfort for you, I certainly don’t mind.”

Dimitri smiled, even if he knew he was coaxing more tears from his eyes. “You are a source of comfort,” he said. He buried his face in his pillow for a moment, trying to gain composure. He turned toward the ceiling, lacing his own fingers together before he said, “I’m sorry. I… Mercedes asked me about something today and it. Threw me off, I suppose.”

“What was it, if I may ask?” Dedue said, “Obviously, I don’t need to know, I just…”

“I should tell you,” Dimitri said. 

“You don’t have to. I don’t think there’s much I need to know unless it’s, like. You can’t make it to a show or something like that.”

“I know. But you should still know this,” Dimitri said. He fumbled toward his chest, finding his necklace. He pressed his fingers against the medallion, fumbling through a breathing exercise. He breathed in sharply through his nose and out through his mouth. It didn’t really help. “She… she found out something about me. I guess. It’s the moment that things started to get bad between Felix and me. And… it just… it hurts remembering.”

Dedue didn’t reply. It took Dimitri a moment to realize that he was trying to give him space. He continued to fiddle with the necklace before he said, “Felix had a brother. Glenn. I… I admired him a lot. I always followed behind him. I would have never gotten into music the way I am now if it wasn’t for him and his, like. Weird CD mixes.” He laughed weakly, remembering the CDs and the very specific titles Glenn wrote out in Sharpie marker. Dimitri’s favorite was Music You’ll Want To Drive To I Think. Dimitri couldn’t even drive anymore.

“He would babysit us and whatever and… one time we were at a corner store. I don’t… remember much, but I think the story was that someone was trying to rob it. The guy grabbed me and Glenn tried to rescue me, only to get shot during it. I think I just… stopped knowing how to be a person after that. Felix too, in his own ways. And… Mercedes found out, because Catherine from _Thunderbrand_ was running her mouth.” He felt a tear roll awkwardly across his temple. He wiped at it, sniffling. “I admired Catherine so much when I was a kid! Glenn had some of her early stuff and I really enjoyed it… I didn’t realize that she was still in the scene and that she even _knew_ about something like this…”

He covered his mouth. It felt ridiculous complaining about something as insignificant as that. It didn’t even cross his mind until this moment. Who cared if Catherine was only a few degrees away from himself? Glenn was dead.

“She tends to talk a bit… recklessly,” Dedue said. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Is it?” Dimitri asked, “I’m why Glenn’s dead.”

“A guy with a gun is why Glenn is dead,” Dedue pointed out dryly. “You were in danger and he wanted to protect you. It didn’t matter if his life was endangered. I’m sure either of us would have done the same thing.”

Dimitri pulled his sheets toward his chin. He knew that he couldn’t argue that. He wouldn’t have even had to know the kid before he tried to help if he was in the situation. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dedue felt the same way.

“But… thank you for telling me this,” Dedue said, “I… I am honored that you feel even remotely comfortable telling me any off this. I can’t. Imagine opening up about anything that is difficult with anybody, even if I was close with them.”

It didn’t sound like that much of a shock. If Dimitri was honest with himself, he could admit that he knew very little about Dedue’s interior unless he worked it into his lyrics. He never felt like he was expected to know these things about him, but he couldn’t help but be a bit curious.

“If you ever _do_ feel comfortable… please know I’m here for you,” Dimitri said. 

“I don’t doubt that,” Dedue said, “We’ll see. I feel the same toward you. I am always willing to listen.”

Dimitri turned on his side, toward approximately where Dedue was. He closed his eyes, even if he had no idea if Dedue was looking at him. “I… appreciate it. But I’m wondering if maybe I should. See if I could get back to group or something. I don’t think just therapy is enough for me right now.”

“Is it… helpful being in something like that?” Dedue asked, “Sorry, I… guess I would be a little scared if I had to talk about how I felt to a group of people.”

“It’s… a little weird at first,” Dimitri admitted, “But… it can really help.” He curled up on himself. “Uh, could you… remind me to try to make some phone calls in the morning?”

“Of course,” Dedue confirmed.

“Th… thank you.” 

The conversation ebbed and flowed after that. Eventually, Dedue faded to sleep and Dimitri closed his eyes, realizing that this was the earliest he had attempted to sleep in years.


End file.
